


Just Us, Dean and Cas

by siriusenigma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Character Death, Canon-Typical Everything, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel is a Multi-Dimensional Wavelength, Dean Represses Feelings, Dean's Emotional Manpain, M/M, Minor References to Non-Con, Missing Scenes, Sam Ships It, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 92,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusenigma/pseuds/siriusenigma
Summary: What if Dean and Castiel DID have a relationship in canon, and the writers just edited it out? The missing scenes are here... no subtractions, just additions.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 17
Kudos: 117
Collections: DCBB 2020





	1. Prologue:  Purgatory

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t originally a Destiel person. I wasn’t necessarily NOT a Destiel person, and I’m pretty open-minded, so I said, “Convince me.” And very slowly, people did. I also kept asking, “So, if you think Destiel was happening behind the scenes, what would that look like? When would that have started?” People didn’t really have an answer for this one except for the obvious meaningful looks and suggestive dialogue. So, two years later, I wrote my own answer, around canon.  
> The following fanfiction has LITERALLY NO CHANGES FROM CANON, except that I added scenes. I tried to exclude as many canon scenes as possible, obviously, since we’ve already seen them. A few of them I did include, presented in a new light. Either way, I’m pretty proud of this because it doesn’t subtract ANYTHING, only adds. It answers the question, “What if there actually was something between Cas and Dean behind the scenes that the writers edited out?”  
> Thanks to my amazing artist, TFWDuke, who has helped me throughout this and whose art is phenomenal!  
> You can check her out at: [TFWDuke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TFWDuke/pseuds/WeldersMightyB.url) or at  
> [TFWDuke Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/tfwduke)

Dean Winchester was a “shoot first and ask questions later” kind of man. He had impeccable hunter’s instincts that had helped him survive in far more life-or-death situations than he would ever be able to count. Unfortunately, these instincts didn’t serve him quite as well in either a social or a romantic capacity. Dean was terrible with anything requiring finesse, though he had just enough charm to be dangerous in a bar around pretty women. Short of one-night stands, however, he had never been able to sustain a relationship even if he had wanted to, which he didn’t.

In terms of friendship, Castiel was the closest thing that he had to a real friend, which he valued far more than he would ever be willing to discuss. Cas was just that, however; a friend.

Dean wasn’t attracted to men, for the simple reason that his father wouldn’t have stood for it. He occasionally had thoughts about men, but he reassured himself that that didn’t mean that he was gay. After all, he was (this he knew for sure) extremely attracted to women, and there were quite enough of those to go around.

So that was that. 

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It started in Purgatory, with Benny.

Four days after Dean met the other vampire, they came across two female monsters of some sort. Dean was exhausted at the time, as he and Benny had encountered two leviathan not an hour before. They had spent 45 minutes running as far as their legs would take them after beheading the fowl things. Still, Dean readied his (at that time still make-shift) weapon, his legs protesting remaining in his continued upright position.

Benny caught him in the stomach. “Slow down, they ain’t lookin’ for a fight.”

Dean gave Benny a dubious look, but even after only four days he trusted the vampire enough to guide his interactions with other monsters. One woman was short and Latino, the other medium-build and black. Both smiled, and Dean could tell from here that neither were vampires or werewolves. Shapeshifters, djinn, or ghouls, then, most likely. He also recognized the lascivious look in their eyes – it was the look women often gave him in bars.

Benny said something in Spanish, and one of the female monsters responded. 

“’You gonna be here when we’re done?” Benny asked Dean, cocking his head.

“What – are you serious?” Dean asked.

One of the women glared at him and gestured at his weapon, and Dean lowered it hesitantly. “I’ve got nothing but time,” grumbled Dean, leaning against a tree and looking sourly at Benny.

“You could join if you think you can survive it,” Billy added with a wicked grin.

“Uh, no,” Dean said, attempting to mask his shock at even being asked. “Definitely not.”

Benny shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Benny didn’t go far; his vampire friend was out of sight, but it didn’t stop Dean from hearing the cacophony of sexual noises coming from the three monsters.

Half an hour later, Benny returned, zipping his fly. The girls were nowhere in sight.

“Did you have to be so loud?” Dean asked. By that time he was half-erect and wholly annoyed.

“’Said you could join in, didn’t I?” Benny replied, shrugging.

“Not with monsters,” responded Dean. “They’d have killed me as soon as screwed me.”

“Maybe.” Benny shrugged. “Your loss, my gain.”

As time went on, Benny became less like an acquaintance and more like a friend. Dean began to realize that Benny was more affectionate with him than other men had ever been; more affectionate than Sam had been, or Cas, or even his own father. Sometimes he would pat Dean on the back when Dean had managed to do something well. (“Bout’ time you managed to make a halfway decent weapon, Brother,” Benny said once, clapping him on the back. “I’m tired of pickin’ up your slack.”)

Sometimes Benny would put his arm around Dean in a friendly way. (“I’ve been here before, and you’re in for a treat, Brother,” he said, guiding Dean over to a clump of bushes with leaves that he promised were not only edible, but quite tasty.)

After the two of them had known each other for a while, Benny began to hug Dean sometimes after difficult battles with other creatures. Eventually, Benny began to hug him even if the battle hadn’t been a difficult one. 

Somehow, Benny never alarmed Dean with these affectionate touches. They surprised him, certainly. By the time Benny began to hug him after battles, the vampire had already laid down his life for the Dean more times than either could count (and nursed him back to health after a few fights went badly). So, Dean allowed it. Besides, it was always a manly hug, the kind where you don’t touch middles, with one or two pats on the back. It never seemed entirely out of place.

Once, after a short battle and a hug that Dean felt was longer than necessary, Dean said, “I’m not gay, ya’ know.”

Benny gave him a raised eyebrow. “Neither am I, Brother,” he said. “This is Purgatory. Gay, straight, that don’t matter here. It’s… it’s pure, here. There’s no rules but your own.”

The longer Dean was in Purgatory, the more he understood. Benny was right: nothing mattered except for instinct. He had always more or less lived on instinct anyway, but Purgatory slowly and surely killed the remainder of his adherence to societal norms.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It went on like that, for months. Dean and Benny fought whatever monster came across their path, sometimes followed by a quick, manly hug. Occasionally, they would come across a monster (usually a vampire or a werewolf) that didn’t seem interested in fighting. Sometimes the other monsters they came across were wounded or clearly outmatched, but other times they simply looked at Dean and Benny and then abruptly ran away. “You’ve got yourself a reputation,” said Benny. “Most of us want to eat you for breakfast, but a few of us are smart enough to know that’s gonna get us killed.”

Rarely, Benny would come across a creature that appeared to be willing to engage in sex of some sort. The two of them would size each other up, engage in a quick romp in whatever bush was nearest, and then go their separate ways. Most of these were female, but a few were male. Occasionally, Benny would ask Dean if he wanted to join.

Dean was never sure whether or not he was joking. Some monsters were more human-friendly than others, after all. Ghouls, for example, were known to eat only dead things, while dragons mainly preferred virgins. Dean continued to refuse all offers, however, because he simply didn’t trust monsters, except possibly for Benny.

“That’s probably wise,” Benny agreed. “I told ya to trust nobody.”

Instead, Dean learned quickly to use these times where Benny was off having sex to take care of his own sexual needs. A side effect of palling around with a vampire was that Dean was well aware that Benny could smell every little detail about him, from when he’d last masturbated to what and when he’d last eaten. Benny never said anything, however. When one of them needed private time, they would tell the other to “give me a few minutes,” do their business, then return and act like they didn’t know exactly what was going on.

So it continued.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

After what seemed like months, they finally found Castiel. Benny and the angel fought constantly, about everything, but both were immensely protective of Dean. After a few battles against leviathan, however, Castiel and Benny seemed to grow on each other. (Or, at least, they began to accept that they were stuck with each other.) Though they still fought constantly, after a month or so Benny added Castiel to his post-battle hug ritual. The first time it happened, Castiel looked at Dean in question, and Dean simply shrugged.

The first time Benny went off with another creature – a vampire this time – Castiel was confused.

“You wanna join in, Hot Wings?” asked Benny, who no longer bothered to ask Dean.

“What would I be joining?” Castiel asked curiously.

“No, dude,” Dean said to Castiel, and he felt a slight spike of annoyance that he didn’t understand.

Benny simply shrugged and walked away with the vampire, a leggy blond who, were she human and slightly less dirty, would not have looked out of place at some of Dean’s favorite bars.

Dean groaned. It had been at least two weeks since he’d had a proper wank. Castiel barely left him alone for a second, and Dean was so scared of the angel leaving again that he hadn’t complained.

“What are they doing?” Castiel asked conversationally, leaning against a large tree next to Dean.

Then the noises started – the usual long groans and panting. 

Castiel looked at Dean, alarmed. “Dean-! Does – it sounds like…” Castiel pulled out his own make-shift weapon.

“They’re having sex, Cas,” Dean said, exasperated. As usual, his own anatomy had decided to respond. He was turned on, and confused, and annoyed.

“Oh,” said Castiel, and he relaxed and put away his weapon.

The noises went on, and Dean’s annoyance grew. He had hoped that Castiel might be uncomfortable and take the initiative to leave Dean alone for a few private minutes. 

Unfortunately, the opposite seemed to be the case. Castiel moved closer to Dean almost unconsciously and gave him a wistful look before looking away quickly.

Dean pretended not to notice, though he felt himself hardening even further. He clenched his fists. The tree bark dug into Dean’s back where he leaned against it, and the air was muggy, hot and stifling. Castiel’s arm was a hard line against his own, and he felt trapped, caged-…

“Dean,” Castiel said, “Do you think-…”

And then Dean made one of many impulsive decisions without thinking: he kissed Castiel. It was hard, bruising in its intensity. It felt immensely better than Dean could’ve expected - partly, he thought, because he hadn’t touched anyone in _months_ , and partly, he reluctantly admitted, because it was Castiel. His lips were softer than Dean expected, and somehow warmer.

Castiel did not hesitate, but immediately wove his arms around Dean and pulled him closer, shocking Dean even more than his own impulsive decision. Dean forcefully slipped his tongue past Castiel’s lips, and suddenly it was as though their tongues were in a battle for dominance.

Dean was swept up in the sudden onslaught of everything he hadn’t felt in months, by the base human need for touch, and by the feel of Castiel’s body against his. Suddenly it didn’t matter that Castiel was male, that he was an angel – Dean only knew that he _wanted_ , and that was all that mattered. This was Purgatory, after all.

Castiel was hard, Dean could feel it now through his dirty jeans. The angel moaned into Dean’s mouth, and the sound shot straight to his groin. Dean pinned Castiel against the large tree, thrusting against him wildly. It created a friction that was both too much and not enough, and still they held on for dear life, their tongues wound together.

In the moment when their lips finally parted, the angel gave Dean a shocked look, but the two of them had long since started something that couldn’t be derailed that easily. Castiel’s eyes darted around, Dean knew, to look for monsters. Dean took the opportunity to weave his hand in between the two bodies and pulled at the button on Castiel’s pants, and the next second Castiel appeared to get the idea and began the same treatment of Dean’s jeans. As soon as both flies were unzipped (made easier by the fact that Cas’ fly seemed to have broken some time ago), Dean pulled Castiel’s cock out.

He would’ve thought that his first time touching another man’s cock, like his first time having sex, would have been a momentous occasion. Here in Purgatory, however, there was no time to think about it and no one else to judge him. As a result, the fact that this was his “first time” with another man only occurred to him fleetingly, chased away by need.

Castiel pulled out Dean’s cock a second later, clumsy and unsure. Dean grabbed the two of them together, leaning farther into Castiel to increase the friction. “Dean!” Castiel choked in surprise, and the angel’s hands faltered, eventually landing somewhere around Dean’s ass, pulling him closer still.

The friction was maddening, dry, messy, dirty, wild, and everything Dean never knew he wanted. It was over almost before it had begun, and mess covered both of their shirts. 

“We’ll wash later,” Dean said shakily, because, in all honesty, every moment where the two of them weren’t watching the horizon anxiously for monsters was a risk.

Castiel gave Dean a slightly shocked look, but even the angel recognized the urgency in this. It was not only Dean, after all, who had been in Purgatory for months on end. Castiel, too, had fallen victim to base instincts he hadn’t even known he had, down here cut off from Heaven in the land of the monsters.

When Benny returned ten minutes later, he sniffed the air once, then said, “Bout time, Brother.” Surprisingly, Dean didn’t even have the decency to be ashamed.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

There were leviathan – five of them. They hadn’t stayed in one place for too long, but they were surrounded. “God dammit, angel!” Benny swore, and they began the fight. Two rushed Dean, and he dodged one and cut the head off of the other cleanly with his sword. Castiel cut the head off of the third leviathan, and Dean watched, unable to help, as the mouth of a fourth leviathan began to close just over Castiel’s head. 

Benny cut the head off just in time, his knife accidentally slicing Castiel’s upper arm on the downswing as the angel whirled around awkwardly to square off with a fifth leviathan.

The fifth feigned right toward Castiel, but instead went for Benny. Dean finished off his own leviathan just as Benny’s terrible scream rent the air – the leviathan had snagged his arm in its giant teeth. 

Dean whirled around just as Castiel’s blade sliced cleanly through the leviathan’s head. 

At once, the three of them took off. They ran for miles, it felt like – leviathans were always the worst. They met two werewolves on the way, and Castiel and Dean mowed them down without stopping.

Finally, Benny stopped, still clutching his arm, which was in tatters. More of the arm had been severed than was still attached. It was the worst injury any of them had had in Purgatory, and all of them knew it. “Knew you’d be the death of me, angel,” said Benny, panting. 

“You’re not dying yet,” Dean said gruffly. He grabbed his water bottle (a gem he’d found on a werewolf corpse 2 months earlier) and dumped out the water on his blade. He’d prepared for this eventuality, and though he wasn’t sure he felt comfortable with his friend drinking directly from the source, he was more than willing to give Benny the blood he would need to heal.

Dean sliced a clean cut on his arm, making sure to catch the blood in the bottle. Benny looked at it lustfully, too tired and in pain to conceal his desire.

“Thank you, brother,” Benny said, gulping down the blood. Almost immediately, the arm seemed to look a little better. It stopped bleeding, and the ragged ends began to very slowly knot together, forming new, crystalline skin.

“I’ve gotta knock out,” Benny said, stumbling over to a nearby tree. “’Helps the healing. Keep watch.” 

Seconds later, he was out.

There was a beat of silence. “We almost lost him,” Castiel whispered, his hand finding Dean’s.

“We almost lost _you_ ,” Dean whispered back urgently, thinking of the leviathan’s mouth directly over Castiel’s head. For a moment Dean felt again the desperation he had felt during his first few months in this strange place.

There was a beat, frozen in time, where they looked at each other, and Dean knew they were thinking the same thing. The next moment they were kissing, Dean on top of Castiel on the ground. Dean tasted blood, sweat, and a scent that he knew as purely Castiel, covered in months of dirt and lake-water. At some point, this smell had begun to turn him on more than anything he could conjure in his mind.

He reached under the pants that Castiel had taken (Dean knew) off of a dead vampire three weeks prior. Castiel gasped, his back arching. He palmed Dean through his pants at the same time as he thrust upward, seeking friction. 

They had a bit more time than usual, Dean knew. Everything had been drawn to the location of their fight with the leviathans, and they had run fast enough and far enough to get ahead of anything chasing them. “Gonna try something,” Dean said, yanking down Castiel’s pants just far enough to be safe.

He didn’t think, but simply swallowed Castiel in his mouth, from tip to base.

“Gaaah!” yelled Castiel, though he caught himself and his yell became a whisper. “Dean!”

Dean held onto either side of Castiel, though he wasn’t sure whether or not his intention was to keep Castiel from thrusting into his mouth or to make him do so. In the end, Castiel squirmed and gave tiny thrusts into Dean’s mouth in his own odd compromise. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant sensation, and certainly not one Dean was used to. And yet, it quenched some abandoned thirst inside of him to take and be taken. It didn’t take long, and Dean felt the telltale signs of Castiel’s release. Dean sucked harder, and took what the angel gave him (which would’ve surprised him, if he’d given it absolutely any thought).

“What… in… creation…” Castiel said, looking around, Dean knew, for anything he might’ve missed while he was otherwise engaged. He looked thoroughly debauched, his ragged hair even messier than usual and his eyes alight with surprise and wonder.

“Blow job,” Dean said, shrugging it off with a grin. Then, when Castiel still seemed confused, Dean added in a whisper, “Fellatio.”

A look of recognition dawned in Castiel’s eyes. “Oh!” He exclaimed. Then, “Can I try?”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean was desperate to find his way out of Purgatory because of Sam. And because of cheeseburgers, and Baby, and pie. Aside from Sam and a few material comforts, however, he would admit much later that he’d liked Purgatory much more than he led others to believe.

It was simple in Purgatory. When he felt angry, there were things to kill. When he thought himself hungry, he could find things to eat. (He didn’t need to eat, but he still enjoyed it, even though nothing here was as good as pies and cheeseburgers.) When he was thirsty, there was often water somewhere close (and ironically it was actually clearer than on Earth). When he wanted to have sex, he and Castiel would – well, not have sex, really, because there wasn’t time, but they would sort of grope each other behind the nearest tree. There would even be the occasional blow job. When he wanted human contact, he would reach for Castiel’s hand, or lie down with him, and eventually Castiel began to do the same. They never discussed the issue. In fact, sometimes they would go for hours or days on end without even talking at all. And that was okay too.

Purgatory was simple like that.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

After Purgatory, it was less simple. 

Castiel hadn’t made it out of Purgatory, which left a large, gaping hole inside of Dean.

On the plus side, it meant that Dean didn’t have to decide if he was gay (he knew for a fact that he wasn’t), if he liked men (he had probably just been desperate in Purgatory, right?), or, worst of all, what his and Castiel’s relationship would be back on Earth. (Castiel had known that whatever they had been doing in Purgatory couldn’t continue when they came back, right? Right? On second thought… probably not.)

Dean was a bit relieved that Castiel’s failure to leave Purgatory meant that he had escaped the task of analyzing the situation. But the relief made him feel guilty, and this, in turn, made things complicated.

It was another good reason that Benny and Sam had to stay away from each other – Benny simply knew too much.

So, for a long time, Dean was left with not only the guilt of Castiel’s failure to successfully make it out of Purgatory, but also the guilt of leaving behind a… lover? Really, really good friend with benefits?

It wasn’t like Dean was exactly new to survivor’s guilt, though. He turned it into fuel for his vengeance against the monsters of the world, like he always had. He lived life one day at a time, careful to stay out of dark spaces where he had to think too much.

There were women, as well, after Purgatory. None of them were quite Castiel, but it didn’t really matter, because Castiel was gone anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I think that if Dean and Cas had some sort of relationship behind the scenes, it would almost certainly not have started before Purgatory. Even if Dean was fully bisexual and willing, Castiel spent Season 4 and 5 being too “holier-than-thou”, Season 6 being too “God-minded”, and Season 7 being too “crazy Cas.” Then they had an entire year in Purgatory with just each other and Benny and without the expectations of any sort of normal society so… yeah. That kind of wrote itself. So I started there.  
> If you choose not to go further, you should still check out the rest of TFWDuke's AWESOME art in Chapter 18!


	2. Friends with Benefits or... Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 8, Part 1

It had been months since Dean had seen Castiel. He thought about him often, though. Most often, the thoughts were fleeting, but left behind a subtle feeling of guilt and loss. For example, once he saw a distinctive-looking bush while he and Sam were tromping around in the woods, and it reminded him of one of the bushes in Purgatory with edible leaves. Or, if someone would make a bad joke or miss a social cue, it would remind him of Cas.

Sometimes he would think about Cas at a completely inappropriate time. Once, a woman they were trying to help was killed by vampires before they could help her, and died in front of them. The look in her eyes reminded Dean of Cas, just before Dean had abandoned him in Purgatory. Another time, the blue eyes of a girl he was having sex with reminded him of Cas. (The resulting quick climax put him in a bad mood for a week.) 

Life went on, however. After Purgatory, Dean and Sam had met up with the prophet Kevin Tran, who was currently in possession of the demon tablet. The demon tablet, when properly translated, had a way to lock demons in Hell forever. Sam and Dean were searching for both Kevin and the tablet, but it was slow-going. They had been taking other jobs until they got a lead.

Then one day, Dean thought he saw Castiel walking down the street. It was only for a second; when he looked back, his old friend was gone. He was left with an overwhelming mixture of shock, desire, and a deep ache that he couldn’t properly describe.   
After that, Dean began to see Castiel everywhere. It was like the floodgates had opened, and once Dean started to think about him again, he couldn’t _stop._ Even after Sam went to sleep that night, Dean stayed up feeling restless. He remembered, with an odd squirming in his chest, the time they had spent together in Purgatory. He remembered the feeling of Castiel’s hand in his as his friend grabbed him to run from leviathan. He remembered the feeling of Castiel’s beard on his face during one of their few monster-free moments.

When Castiel appeared behind Dean in the bathroom the next day, Dean was sure it was another figment of his imagination. “Survivor’s guilt,” Sam had called it.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said.

Dean froze. He waited on Castiel to disappear.

“Cas?” he whispered. _It couldn’t be._

“I’m here, Dean.”

“No. You’re… Purgatory.”

“I’m out.” Castiel reached out his hand to Dean, then seemed to think better of it.

This couldn’t be Castiel. It was some sort of monster, here to taunt him with what he could never have again. 

“Whatever you are, you’re not Castiel,” Dean said gruffly, going for his gun.

Castiel didn’t move to attack. “How can I convince you?” he asked seriously.

The blind shock and panic filling Dean allowed a few relevant thoughts to flow to the surface in his head. He took out his gun, but didn’t raise it. “Salt… silver,” said Dean absently, and Castiel nodded, leaving the bathroom to get the required items.

“Castiel!” Dean heard Sam exclaim. “You’re alive!”

Dean followed Castiel out of the bathroom, but his mind was working overtime. Finally, his body had begun to catch up. He already knew it was the real Castiel. He could smell Purgatory, and monster guts, and the smell that was purely _Cas._ He began to harden in spite of himself, and leaned on the kitchen counter to hide his agitation. He holstered his weapon.

Castiel methodically sliced himself with silver, and then drank holy water touched with a bit of salt, offered by Sam.

“Unbelievable, man,” Sam said. “I-I cannot believe it. You're actually here.”

“Yeah, I've been trying to reach out, but for whatever reason, I wasn't at full power,” said Castiel. “So I couldn't connect with you.”

“That must have been why you kept seeing him,” said Sam, glancing at Dean. “I mean, you think?”

_Good. At least he wasn’t going crazy._ But _how?_

“Yeah,” Dean said, picking up the thread of the conversation. “Yeah, uh, I got to be honest. I'm thinking, how the hell did you make it out? I mean, I – I was there. I know that place. I know how we had to scratch and claw and kill and bleed to find that portal and make it through it, and it almost finished me. So, uh... so how exactly are you sitting here with us right now?”

_Castiel was a goner. Too good to be true._

“Dean, everything you just said is completely true. And that's the strange part. I... have no idea. I remember endlessly running and hiding from leviathan, and then I was on the side of the road in Illinois. And... that was it.”

Dean seemed to be struggling to make thoughts and words flow together. “And that – that was it?”

“Yes.” Castiel paused, glancing at himself in the mirror. “Oh. I'm dirty.”

“Yeah, well, Purgatory will do that to you,” said Dean, attempting nonchalance.

Castiel walked toward the bathroom. Was he… was he going to shower in Dean’s room? He knew things were different now, right? They didn’t do _that_ … here. 

But, more importantly, Castiel had no memory of getting out of Purgatory, which was alarming at best. How could he trust that? Castiel had said he didn’t know how Sam got out of Hell, either, until he was caught in a lie. 

_So much less complicated in Purgatory._

“Dean?” Sam’s voice reached him as though through a haze.

“Huh?”

“You all right?”

Dean moved to sit opposite his brother at the table. “You do see something severely wrong here, right? Sammy, I remember every second of leaving that place. I mean, I remember the – the heat, the stink, the pain, the fear. I have that whole ugly mess... right here, and he says he has no idea how he got out? I – I'm just not buying it.”

_If it’s too good to be true, it probably is._

“So what, you think he's lying?” Sam asked.

“I'm saying something else happened,” Dean answered. “I saw the shape that he was in. I mean, there was no way he was fighting his ass out alone. No way.”

“All right,” Sam said. “So, who... or what got him out?”

“Exactly,” said Dean.

Castiel walked out of the bathroom then. His suit, tie, and trenchcoat were clean, and he was freshly shaven. He looked _good._

_What would it be like to be with him without the beard?_

Dean crossed his legs, embarrassed at the direction his thoughts had taken. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

“Better?” Castiel asked, watching for Dean’s reaction.

Dean gave a half-smile that felt more like a grimace and nodded.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Sam and Dean were currently tracking a list of men and women who had disappeared suddenly. It was lucky that Castiel was with them, as he was able to identify the entire list immediately as potential prophets who would take over if Kevin died. Just as they came to this conclusion, Sam received a call from Kevin’s mother, Mrs. Tran, explaining that Crowley, the King of Hell, had managed to capture Kevin. 

Over the next 24 hours, Castiel accompanied the brothers on their mission to rescue Kevin and Mrs. Tran from Crowley. On the one hand, it felt like they were a team again.

On the other hand, Dean was overwhelmed with guilt about how his time in Purgatory had ended, and worried about the future of their friendship.

“Getting me out of Purgatory wasn't your responsibility,” Castiel said when Dean confronted him about the former issue.

“You didn't get out,” Dean insisted. “So whose fault was it?”

“It's not about fault,” Castiel said calmly. “It's about _will_. Dean, do you really not remember?”

Dean shifted in annoyance. “I lived it, Cas. I know what happened.”

“No,” Castiel said. “No, you _think_ you know. You remembered it the way you needed to.”

Dean felt the anger bubble over. _All my fault…_ “Look, I don't need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? For failing you like I've failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about! I don't need it!” He wanted to hug Castiel, to feel him solid in his arms, but he didn’t dare. Sam was across the parking lot, making arrangements for Kevin and his mother and talking to Garth on the phone.

“Dean,” Castiel said calmly. “Just look at it. Really look at it.” He touched Dean on the forehead, and suddenly Dean was transported back, again, to that moment in Purgatory, when he was finally free of the place. It was the same rocky mountain, the same portal, and they were being chased by leviathans. This time, however, Dean’s gaze zeroed in on his hand, still attached to Cas’ hand at the portal near the mountain summit. And Cas – Cas broke Dean’s grip on his hand, and shouted, “Go!”. And then the portal closed.

Castiel removed his fingers from Dean’s forehead. “See, it wasn't that I was weak,” he told Dean. “I was stronger than you. I pulled away. Nothing you could have done would have saved me, because I didn't want to be saved.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean said angrily. He was still confused. And yet, it felt as though a small bit of the guilt he carried around with him had lightened. There was a small sense of relief, small enough to leave behind the usual gaping chasm of guilt, but big enough to make itself known by its absence.

And then there was another thought, small but growing ever larger. _All along,_ he _planned to abandon_ me _…_

“It's where I belonged,” Castiel explained. “I needed to do penance. After the things I did on Earth and in Heaven, I didn't deserve to be out. And I saw that clearly when I was there. I... I planned to stay all along. I just didn't know how to tell you. You can't save everyone, my friend... though, you try.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Sam, Dean, and Castiel headed back to Rufus’ cabin in Whitefish, Montana, their current base. Castiel opted out of the drive from Iowa back to Montana, preferring to fly instead. Sam noticed Dean’s scowl at this turn of events and offered, “If I could fly, I’d probably fly everywhere, too. It’s a helluva lot quicker!” Dean ignored him, and spent most of his shift of the remaining 22-hour drive to Montana blaring AC/DC.

Dean refused to allow himself to consider that he was probably irrationally annoyed that Castiel had chosen to fly instead of ride in the car with them. They were all going to the same place, after all, and loathe though he was to admit it, Dean had really missed the angel. Apparently Castiel didn’t care as much as Dean did – not enough to ride with him in the car, and not enough to have made the effort to get out of Purgatory with Dean.

When they arrived at Rufus’ cabin, Castiel met them at the door, his eyes full of affection. Dean leveled him with a glare. “What’d you do for the last day or so while you waited on the slow humans?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“I re-did the angel-proofing on the cabin,” Castiel told Dean brightly. “I seem to have made a few mistakes the last time I did it. At the time, though, my mind was more enthralled with the birds and the bees.” Sam guffawed and began jovially grabbing his bags from the Impala. 

Castiel looked at Dean, gauging his reaction, but Dean only stared back in annoyance. 

Castiel’s mouth turned down in disappointment, and he headed inside, followed by Sam. Dean took a deep breath, scowled, picked up his bag, and headed into the house reluctantly. 

Sam and Cas began a good-natured conversation about the Trans. Dean ignored both of them, turned on the television, and flipped to his favorite soap opera.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Forty-five minutes later, Castiel, who had been watching the soap opera with Dean, said, “I don’t understand. Why is Dr. Sexy being so mean to Nurse Jennifer?”

“He’s not sure how he feels about her,” grumbled Dean.

“Is that typical?” Castiel asked. “For one person to be mean to another when they’re not sure how they feel?”

Dean thought about saying, “Duh,” or “Obviously,” but instead simply ignored him.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Half an hour after that, Castiel asked, “Dean, can I use your computer?”

Dean continued to ignore him, but he opened his backpack so that Castiel could see his laptop, and shoved it toward the angel.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The next two hours were more of the same. Sam spent time on his laptop, doing what Dean had long since dubbed “Sam things.” Dean watched the television, and determinedly did _not_ look at Castiel. Castiel used Dean’s computer, but Dean could feel his friend’s eyes on him every so often.

Occasionally, Sam or Castiel attempted to start a conversation, but Dean didn’t feel like participating. He gave short (and even rude) answers to most of the questions that were directed toward him. At one point, Sam and Castiel managed to get into a 20-minute-long conversation about various breeds of werewolves, but otherwise the conversations were cut short without his input.

Finally, Sam stood up with an abrupt sigh. “I’m going to grab food,” he said. Dean opened his mouth, and Sam added, “I know. I’ll get pie. Cas, do you want anything?”

“No,” said Castiel, scrolling on the internet. “Thank you.”

Sam grabbed the Impala keys from the table and made a quick exit. Dean ignored him.

Once the roar of the Impala’s engine faded into the distance, Castiel stood up and strode across the cabin toward the television. He flicked it off.

“Hey!” Dean exclaimed.

“Is there a reason you’re angry with me?” Castiel demanded, leveling Dean with a glare.

Dean started to say, “You left!” but stopped short. That sounded stupid, even in his head. The angel had skipped a 22-hour drive by flying. So what? It would be different, if it hadn’t been for Purgatory. If he hadn’t looked for Castiel, with Benny, for _months…_ If Castiel hadn’t _lied_ about planning to abandon Dean in Purgatory…

“Is it like your Dr. Sexy?” Castiel asked, still glaring shrewdly. “Are you being mean to me because you don’t know how you feel?”

Dean felt as though his stomach had dropped through the floor. “Look, Cas,” Dean said, standing up finally and facing the angel. “I know how I feel. That’s not it. I don’t…”

Dean almost said, “I don’t have _feelings.”_ But, in a moment of clarifying truth, he realized that it was quite possible that he _did_ have _feelings_ for the angel. That was definitely something to _not_ dwell on later, since it didn’t matter anyway. 

Just in time, Dean also realized that Castiel might be hurt if he told him he didn’t have feelings for him. Or, worse, he would be able to identify with his angel senses that it wasn’t true.

Dean changed tact. “You’re my best friend, man,” he said. “But we can’t be… _that_ … here! Don’t you get it?” He felt like an animal caught in a net. He could feel his body coiling, ready to pounce. In Purgatory, this feeling always ended with him killing something or fucking something, Dean reflected.

Castiel narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, as though studying Dean. He stepped closer. “No, Dean. I don’t ‘get it’ _at all.”_

Dean sighed frustratedly. “Things are different here. Sam’s here. I’m…” He felt embarrassed and raw just talking about this secret part of himself which he had never discussed before, not even with Castiel.

“Sam is _gone_ ,” Castiel interrupted, his eyes still glaring with a challenge. “You make no sense.”

Castiel was so close now, and Dean could smell that odd mix of heather and wind and lightning that was purely _Castiel_. He began to forget what they were talking about. 

He was right - Sam was gone, now, and they had a moment in between the monsters. In a way, it was just like Purgatory: pure, and uncomplicated, for just a small window of time.

_Screw it._

Dean moved toward Castiel to push him against something (anything would do, really). At the same time, Castiel disappeared and reappeared on the couch, pulling Dean back toward him with his impossible strength. Dean wondered, for a brief second, whether Castiel had read his thoughts. Then Castiel’s mouth smashed against his, and he no longer cared.

_“When we’re out, we can take our time_ ,” he had promised Castiel once in the heat of passion. It had never occurred to him that he might live long enough to follow through on this promise. The thought drifted to the surface, but Dean immediately forgot it as Castiel wrestled off his shirt. They had never done that in Purgatory – never had the time. Both men stopped to look down at the shirt, triumphant, then caught each other’s eye and began to laugh.

“Always wanted to do that,” groaned Castiel, and he latched onto Dean’s pulse point, chasing away any other thoughts Dean might’ve had.

This was _everything_ , everything he had wanted for the past few months but not been able to admit. In Purgatory it had been nothing – a way to fill the time, a way to relieve the pressure, and a way to cement the closest friendship he had. But now it was _everything_ , and Dean was choking on a sob while he chased a high.

Dean managed to get Castiel’s shirt off, and he realized, fleetingly – shockingly – that Castiel’s torso was, surprisingly, a _major_ turn-on, even here, away from the monsters. Castiel divested Dean of his pants, quickly and efficiently, without giving Dean time to think about whether or not it was a good idea.

“Finally,” Castiel groaned, his voice husky. 

Dean worked clumsily at Castiel’s belt until his new black slacks were around his feet. It occurred to Dean, suddenly, that Castiel might want _more_ , now that there was time. And then Castiel’s mouth was around him, and he forgot to think. It was like coming home, as though a hole that had been missing inside him had finally repaired itself.

At some point, the pace changed. Castiel slowed down, for the first time ever. He was taking his time, moving his tongue with deft strokes. Dean let the angel maneuver him onto the sofa, resisting the urge to force his head down. 

Dean waited a few moments, selfishly, before pushing his hand against Castiel’s shoulder in the universal “get off” gesture. He pulled Castiel on top of him, their cocks moving together in a rhythm that he knew well, but had missed terribly. When had this become so addicting? He relished the feeling of being completely naked – the feel of sweat and skin without the fabric of pants, the feel of Castiel’s torso against his own, the cleanliness of their bodies and smell of aftershave that was just slightly different than Purgatory.

All of the women he had been with sinse, none of them had compared to _this_ , somehow – being with someone he knew, inside and out…

“Dean!” Cas exclaimed, and it was louder than it would’ve been in Purgatory, and Dean found that he liked it. Dean wove his hand between the two of them roughly, grabbing their cocks, and trying to control his own ragged breath.

It was bliss, the kind he hadn’t felt since Purgatory, which (when he reflected upon it later) was probably more than a little fucked up. Everything else bled into the background, and there was just him and Cas, and this time there weren’t even any monsters to worry about…

This time it was lazy, and he pumped both of them, relishing in the heat of Castiel’s body around him, the fact that there was no time limit on this. Sam wouldn’t be back for at least another 20 minutes, which (compared to the amount of time they had to do to this in Purgatory) seemed like hours. 

Castiel bit Dean’s shoulder, sucking on the flesh in his exploration of Dean’s torso. Dean could feel the stubble of his friend’s face against his upper arm, and he heard Castiel gasp, thrusting roughly into Dean’s hand. Dean quickened the pace to match, and Castiel groaned deeply, his back going suddenly stiff. Dean’s orgasm slammed into him, too, and he saw stars. Liquid hit his stomach, and he wasn’t sure which of them was the culprit, or perhaps both.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It took a few minutes for Dean to recover. In Purgatory, he had always tried to regain his faculties as quickly as possible; to take the time to enjoy his post-orgasm bliss was a luxury. When he looked up, Castiel was next to him on the sofa, his thigh touching Dean’s feet. The angel grinned. “I can clean us off now, see?” Dean felt the stickiness on his stomach disappear.

“That – that’s actually pretty handy,” Dean commented. 

“Feel better now?” Castiel asked.

Dean thought about it. “Actually… yeah,” he said. He waited on the feeling of regret to hit, but, oddly, he just felt _happy_.

It occurred to him, for the first time, that this thing with Castiel didn’t necessarily have to stop just because he was out of Purgatory. He didn’t really understand it, but maybe he didn’t need to. After all, the world didn’t really give him that many nice things.

It was communicating this to Cas that was the problem. He considered this for a few minutes before he finally offered, “Look, Cas, maybe… maybe we don’t tell Sam about this?”

Castiel gave him a look reminiscent of Dean’s “How can you not understand that pop reference?” look. “I figured that out on my own, Dean. And though I don’t understand why, I will respect it.”

“Thanks, man,” said Dean, unable to believe his luck.

Castiel nodded, squeezing Dean’s thigh before he began putting his clothes back on.

“Cas?” asked Dean.

“Yes, Dean?”

“I’m… I’m glad you’re out, man. I’m… really glad.”

Cas nodded once and turned away, but Dean caught his fond smile as he put on h

is shirt.

Dean tried not to think too much about his friendship with Castiel over the next few hours. On the one hand, whatever they had was… _great_ , if he was honest with himself. If it wasn’t broken, he rationalized, he shouldn’t fix it. They were friends with benefits or… something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the fact that we’ve all already seen the show, I’m trying to gloss pretty quickly over the actual plotline and get to the “behind the scenes” Destiel stuff. For that reason, this has some time jumps and some variety in the pacing, which was unavoidable.


	3. Third Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 8, Part 2

“So what now?” Dean asked casually at a Gas N’ Sip later that evening. “Move to Vermont, open up a charming B&B?”

“No,” Castiel answered. “I still want – I still need to help people. So... I'm gonna become a hunter.”

Wait. _What._ “Really?” Sam asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” Castiel said happily. “I could be your third wheel.”

Again. Wait. _What?_

“You know that's not a good thing, right?” Dean said, recovering from his shock. He had just barely gotten used to Castiel being his “friend with benefits.” Having him around _all the time_ … around _Sam…_ where Dean would have to _think about things_ …

It was one thing in Purgatory, where everything was pure and raw and instinct. But _here_ … Dean felt panic rise up as his life in Purgatory with Castiel once again collided with his life as a hunter, as Sam’s older brother.

“Of course it is,” Castiel said. “A third wheel adds extra grip, greater stability. I even found a case. Oklahoma City – a man's heart jumped 10 feet out of his chest. It sounds like our kind of thing, right?”

“He's got a point,” Sam said.

“Excellent,” said Castiel happily, turning away. “I’ll see you there.” Castiel turned to leave.

_Oh hell no._ Castiel fashioned himself a hunter, did he? Then he needed to start acting like one.

“Wait, Cas, Cas!” Dean shouted. “If you want to play cowboys and bloodsuckers, that's fine. But you're gonna stick with us, okay? None of this zapping around crap. Capiche?”

“Yeah, I capiche,” said Castiel, looking disappointed.

“All right then,” Dean said, feeling oddly relieved. He walked to the driver’s side door.

“Can I at least ride in the front seat?” Castiel asked.

“No!” exclaimed Dean and Sam at the same time.

It did not escape Dean’s notice that although he thought that life would be a lot more cramped with Castiel hanging around all the time, he was also desperate for his friend to stay.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel knew that Dean was being an assbutt because he didn’t understand his feelings. He was glad for his year living depowered and almost human, and even for the time in Purgatory, because he could almost understand that. Humans had so _many_ feelings. It was confusing, but also intoxicating.

Castiel didn’t have this confusion. He knew he loved Dean. He was comfortable with their bond. sdsdsasfSFDsSDadsfdsgdsfdafadsfHHHHHHxcCXcxzx

He knew that Dean’s confusion had something to do with Sam, and something to do with the things that Castiel knew not to tell Sam about. He thought perhaps Dean was questioning his sexuality. Personally, Castiel found this issue to be trivial in the face of his love for Dean and, he knew, Dean’s love for him. Their souls had been bonded together when Castiel raised Dean from Hell. This bond was eternal, and had nothing to do with sex (though it appeared to have gained a sexual component). Dean would learn that, eventually, and Castiel would give him time. It must be difficult to have so many _feelings_ all the time.

Meanwhile, Dean was in a foul mood for most of the trip to Oklahoma _._ He made fun of Castiel when he attempted to obtain information about the deceased by sniffing him. He ridiculed him for interrogating a witness and possible suspect. Worst of all, he refused to allow Castiel to remain in the motel room and watch over him during their first night in Oklahoma. 

“Cas, you gonna book a room or what?” Dean asked him.

“No, I'll stay here.”

“Oh, okay,” Dean said sarcastically. “Yeah. We'll have a slumber party, braid Sam's hair. Where are you gonna sleep?”

“I don't sleep,” pointed out Castiel, as though Dean had forgotten. (In Purgatory, Castiel had been underpowered, and slept when he was able, which wasn’t often.)

“Okay, well, I need my four hours, so...” Dean trailed off.

“I'll watch over you,” offered Castiel.

“That's not gonna happen,” said Dean.

Their discussion was interrupted by another development in the case. A robber called the “Black Hole” had hit a nearby bank and dropped an anvil on a security guard. It was the third of three deaths that were, as Dean put it, “straight out of a cartoon.”

Sam rode to the police station with a cop he met at the scene to check out the information they had about the Black Hole, leaving Castiel and Dean to head back to the motel alone. 

They had barely passed the threshold when Castiel suddenly found himself on the receiving end of an enthusiastic kiss. Dean assaulted his lips, manipulating a surprised Castiel backward into the bedroom.

“’Been waiting for this for days,” grumbled Dean as he mashed Castiel between himself and the bed.

Castiel forced the kissing to come to a stop, holding a hand out in front of himself. “It’s Thursday,” he pointed out. “We did this Tuesday. And you’ve been an ass all day.”

Dean visibly deflated, and for a second his face resembled a child who has been denied candy. He sighed, taking a seat on the bed and raking his hand through his hair. “I know, man,” he said softly. “I’m just… it surprised me when you said that you were gonna be a hunter now.” He looked at Cas pleadingly. “Purgatory… it was _pure_ , you know? Benny never cared what we did or who we did it with, but here is _different_ , and… and we still don’t know how you got out of Purgatory in the first place, and it makes me nervous.”

“Dean,” Castiel said gently, putting his hand on Dean’s arm. “I understand your rules. And I wish I knew more about how I got out of Purgatory. I assure you, if I knew, I’d tell you. But if you don’t feel comfortable with me around, I’ll leave.”

“No!” Dean said immediately, but then he schooled his features into a neutral smile and added, “I mean, you’re definitely welcome to stay. I’ll… I’ll try to be less of an ass.”

“Okay, Dean,” said Castiel frankly, and this time he moved in for the kiss. 

He never would’ve believed, until Purgatory, that he would find kissing exciting, but Dean never failed to amaze him. He felt overcome, caught up in the whirlwind that was Dean’s tongue in his mouth and Dean’s hands pulling unhurried at his clothes. Castiel’s trenchcoat fell onto the floor, and a minute later Dean’s long-sleeved shirt followed.

“Cas, I missed this, after I left Purgatory,” Dean said roughly, mouthing at Castiel’s neck and wrestling with his suit jacket. It was somehow too much and never enough – too much sensation hurtling toward his groin, and yet not enough to leave marks.

“I missed you too,” Castiel said, his breath quickening as he thrust toward Dean in spite of himself. He knew this was Dean’s way of saying “I love you,” and for now, it was enough.

“D’ya know what else I missed?” Dean asked roughly, throwing the suit jacket aside.

“Mmm?” said Castiel, who was too busy unbuttoning his shirt to really give much concentration to Dean’s words.

“This,” said Dean, palming Castiel’s erection through his pants and starting on the zipper.

“Dean!” Castiel gasped. His erection came free thanks to Dean’s ministrations, and Dean drew his finger up the shaft before falling to his knees. Pleasure shot up Castiel’s spine, zinging though his body repeatedly as Dean took his cock in his mouth.

Dean could only swallow about half of Castiel’s cock, but he made up for it by using his hands on the base and humming. Castiel lost the ability to think, alighted by the miracle that was Dean Winchester. He had never hummed in Purgatory before – rather, they had always tried to be as quiet as humanly possible.

It was over more quickly than Castiel had expected, and Castiel felt the tightening in his balls and then the overwhelming pleasure as he shot down Dean’s throat. At some point he sagged, temporarily boneless, onto the bed behind him.

He took two breaths, summoning grace to give him energy his human body didn’t have. Dean was lying next to him, his shirt on and his cock emerging red and proud from unzipped jeans. He stroked it leisurely, looking both cocky and proud but also eager. 

“Your turn,” Castiel said. He was eager to try out the humming.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

An hour later, Sam still wasn’t back yet. 

“You know,” Dean commented from his seat at the table, “When I asked you if you were going to book a room… that was your cue to book a room. Then I was going to sneak into it after Sam went to sleep.”

“Oh!” Castiel exclaimed. He supposed this made sense. “I didn’t know that.” He thought for a moment. “I… don’t have any money.”

“Don’t worry,” Dean said, “We’ll get you figured out after we finish this case. Um, in the meantime, I guess you can just stay here tonight. Don’t watch me sleep, okay, ‘cause that’s creepy. But you could use my laptop. If you’re going to be a hunter, you might want to familiarize yourself with the internet. Just… when you find the porn, click exit, because some of the porn sites give you viruses, and you don’t know which ones to use.”

“I won’t look at any porn,” Castiel agreed. “I don’t want to get a virus.” He spotted John’s journal on the table. “Can I look through that?” 

“Sure,” Dean said, handing the journal to Castiel.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

When Sam returned, he brought news: all of the houses and possessions hit by the Black Hole, including the safety deposit box at the bank, belonged to residents at a local nursing home. They decided to visit the nursing home the next day.

That night, Castiel familiarized himself with the internet while the boys slept. While he searched, he reflected on the events of the day. When he thought about it, it occurred to Castiel that he wasn’t a very good hunter. He had been able to identify that the corpse had had a bladder infection, but he had missed the fact that the man had been having an affair. (Sam was able to identify this by the tan line under the man’s missing ring.) And, perhaps he _had_ been too harsh on the witness he had been interrogating. Sam had been a lot gentler, and they had been able to get answers. Sam had had to apologize for his behavior. And, he hadn’t understood the references that the brothers had made to cartoons, which, it turned out, were very important in this case. Perhaps he wouldn’t be a good hunter after all.

He wished he could go back to Heaven. But it was like he had told Dean earlier. “When I was bad... and I had all those things, the leviathans, writhing inside me... I caused a lot of suffering on Earth, but I devastated Heaven. I vaporized thousands of my own kind, and I can't go back.”

“'Cause if you do, the angels will kill you,” Dean said, understanding.

“Because if I see what Heaven's become - what I made of it... I'm afraid I might kill myself,” he had answered honestly.

As amazing as this afternoon with Dean had been, Castiel realized that he was floundering, wandering aimlessly with no purpose. Dean was happy to have him along, but he wasn’t willing to admit to his true feelings yet. In fact, Castiel suspected that Dean was more terrified he would leave again than truly happy he was there. Castiel was low on options, however – he was terrified to return to Heaven, he wasn’t cutting it as a hunter, and worst of all, he hated himself.

He was truly lost.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The next day was a disaster. 

They found the man causing all of the chaos, an elderly man by the name of Fred Jones. He was a psychokinetic, but his mind was gone.

Castiel continued to “need a bit of improvement” on his hunting skills. (That was the phrase Dean used when he was being nice.) First, Castiel accidentally got the Winchesters kicked out of the nursing home. In an attempt to correct his mistake, and on the instructions of the Winchesters, Castiel remained at the nursing home, invisible, to watch over Fred. It wasn’t long before Fred accidentally caused a birthday cake to explode all over the other residents. In the confusion afterward, Castiel somehow managed to lose track of Fred himself.

No, Castiel would not make a good hunter after all – no better than he made a leader, or, in fact, even an angel.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

After that, there was a stroke of luck. One of the older residents identified that one of the orderlies was wearing her bracelet, one of the things that had been stolen. They tracked the stolen bracelet back to the owner of the nursing home, Doctor Mahoney. He was the famed “Black Hole”, and he had been using Fred’s psychokinetic powers to rob the residents of the nursing home.

Dean went after Doctor Mahoney, who was busy robbing a bank, while Sam and Castiel addressed Fred, held captive in a van outside the bank. It was lucky, for once, that Castiel was present. He was able to insert himself and Sam into Fred’s mind, a haze of cartoons.

“Look, it can be nice living in a dream world,” Sam told Fred. “It can be great. I know that. And you can hide, and you can pretend all the crap out there doesn't exist, but you can't do it forever because... eventually, whatever it is you're running from – it'll find you.”

Castiel thought briefly of Heaven.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The bad guy had been caught. Castiel felt a swoop of pride; they had won this battle, even though Castiel had been, frankly, terrible at hunting.

The life of a hunter was not for him, he realized. He had been avoiding going back to Heaven. That’s what he really wanted to do – face his punishment in Heaven. The time wasn’t right, but he had a feeling that Heaven would find him, sooner rather than later.

Meanwhile, Castiel realized that he needed to leave Sam and Dean once again. Dean’s feelings were confused, and while he could feel that Dean loved him, he doubted that this equated to wanting him around all the time. He wasn’t needed by the Winchesters, and a “third wheel” wasn’t as welcome as he had hoped.

His penance in Purgatory had been cut short, but it seemed that he still had punishment to serve here on Earth, alone.

“Cas, you get to ride shotgun,” Dean said on the way out of the nursing home. “You’ve done good.”

Dean’s praise meant everything to him, but perhaps he should stop while he was ahead. “I can’t come,” he said. “I want to stay with Mr. Jones. Someone should watch over him for a few days just to be safe.”

“OK, and then what?” asked Dean.

“And then I’m not sure,” said Castiel. “But I know I can’t run anymore.”

It was time for him to move on.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Two months passed.

If Dean had been “confused” before, he was now downright… whatever the elevated version of “confused” was. “Puzzled”, with a side of “completely pissed off.”

It was as though seeing Castiel again had awakened something inside of him. He found himself wondering what anal sex would be like. Twice he had dreams of being inside Castiel that left him frustrated and unsatisfied until he took himself in hand.

Not that this was the first time he’d wondered about anal sex. It was just that until now, girls had always been… more entertaining. More appealing, less drama, less self-hatred, less… _confusion_. 

Now, he thought about sex with Castiel often. He wondered how much it was appropriate for him to think about sex with a man before he had to cave and call himself bisexual. Would he have to start parading in the streets or something, or talking with a lisp?

Also, he’d never really felt this way about a man before. He’d never had _feelings_ for a man before (nor was he ready to admit that he had _feelings_ for Castiel), but he’d also never had fantasies about a man that were so damn… persistent. Maybe he was _angel_ -sexual?

Dean slept with a few women but still couldn’t shake the thought of Castiel’s eyes. This managed to both piss him off and make him feel slightly guilty, which he ignored.

After a week of determinedly _not_ wondering if he should text or call Castiel, he found out that Sam had been texting him off and on. Then he felt like a dick, and started texting and calling his friend on a regular basis. 

Similarly, Dean spent a week determinedly _not_ wondering whether or not he should invite Castiel over for Christmas, only to find out that Sam already had. Christmas was never exactly a big affair, but this year they had shelter and food and weren’t surrounded by monsters, and that in itself was something to celebrate. Castiel and Dean spent an hour _celebrating_ while Sam went to get food. A day later, he was gone again.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel had an occasional habit of turning up when Dean least expected it, and the next time Dean saw the angel was no exception. This time, Castiel appeared at Dean’s side while he was taking a nap and insisted that Dean help him recapture his Brother Samandriel, an angel who had been kidnapped by Crowley.

Dean insisted on taking the Impala, of course. He drove through the night, to Hastings, Nebraska, with Castiel in the passenger seat.

It was the most fun Dean had had in months, he reflected later. They discussed everything: battles they’d had in Purgatory, Castiel’s time in Heaven, Dean’s father, and Benny. Dean hadn’t laughed that hard in weeks.

Something about Cas appeared off, though. It wasn’t something Dean could easily define. He seemed… sad, at times, and distracted, at other times. He knew Castiel had been helping people these past two months, performing acts of angelic kindness for those who deserved it. He had thought that Cas seemed happy, but perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps he should’ve checked in with his friend more often and made sure he was okay. He’d known that Cas was scared to go back to Heaven, and guilty about everything that had happened before Purgatory. Still, the angel had been insistent upon his “penance”, and, after all, Castiel had left _him._

_Again._

 _It’s probably because you were a dick_ , a small voice in Dean’s head reminded him, but he ignored it.

The next day, Dean and Cas scoured Hastings, Nebraska for any sign of demonic or angelic activity, but found nothing. By twilight, Dean’s patience was starting to wear thin. “Wow, will you look at that,” he commented to Cas as they drove by yet another dilapidated building. “Our ninth abandoned factory. Ain't that America? Hey, what do you say, if this doesn't pan out, we head back to that beer-and-bacon happy hour about a mile back, huh?”

Sam was still somewhere in Texas, mad at him over an issue involving a girl he’d met while Dean had been in Purgatory. Maybe Cas would be willing to settle down for the night at a motel. Maybe he’d even be willing to fool around. Dean privately acknowledged that he should probably apologize to Cas for being such a dick the last time they’d been hunting together. Maybe Cas would even stick around this time?

“Wait a minute, Dean,” Castiel said, looking out the window. “Those derelicts, they're demons. I can see their true faces.”

Dean looked through his binoculars at the homeless men standing outside the factory, and spotted another man on the balcony above them.

“If Crowley's got that many hell monkeys outside, he's got to have at least double inside,” Dean commented, his heart sinking. So much for getting some alone time with Cas.

“And angel warding. I can feel it,” Castiel added.

“Well, you, me, and a demon knife ain't gonna cut it,” commented Dean.

“Okay. I'll get Sam,” Castiel said simply.

_Yup. No alone time._

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

_Well, there was definitely no alone time._

It was hours later, and Dean recalled the day carefully as he and Sam made the drive back to Montana. Castiel, Sam, and Dean had stormed the warehouse where Samandriel was being held captive by Crowley, successfully fighting their way through the demons. Castiel had removed Samandriel, leaving Sam and Dean to finish off the last few demons.

When they had caught up with Castiel outside the warehouse, however, he was cradling Samandriel’s dead body. “Cas!” Sam exclaimed. “What the hell happened?”

It made no sense. Samandriel had been screaming a moment ago, but he was nowhere near death, not for an angel.

“He was compromised,” Castiel said, but it sounded robotic, almost rehearsed. The angel stood up. “He came at me. I killed him in self-defense.”  
“Cas, are you okay?” Dean asked.

Blood trickled from the corner of one of Castiel’s eyes, and he wiped at it, seeming distracted. “My vessel must have been damaged in the melee.”

_What melee?_ Castiel hadn’t even fought! There had definitely been an odd moment in the warehouse where he had cowered in fear…

“I have to go,” Castiel said. “Samandriel's remains belong in Heaven.” He crouched down by Samandriel’s body and put his arm around his shoulders. 

“Cas, wait!” protested Dean.

“Thank you both... for everything you've done,” said Castiel. And then he was gone.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Hours later, Sam spray-painted the Enochian angel-warding symbol on the door to their hide-out in Whitefish, Montana. “Okay. That should do it,” he said. “Cas can't see or hear us now.”

“Okay, what the hell?” Dean exclaimed, venting his feelings for his friend.

“I know,” Sam groaned.

“I told you something was off with him since he got back from Purgatory.”

“So, what, you think someone's messing with him or something?” asked Sam.

“Who?”

“Angels?”

“Why would the angels have him kill another angel?” asked Dean, but Sam only shrugged.

In Purgatory, there had been moments where he had felt more in sync, more connected, with Castiel than he had ever felt with anyone in his life. He’d had to be – it was how they’d survived. They moved as one, both when they fought and also in the few precious moments they had had groping each other in a cluster of bushes. 

Now it seemed he had lost that connection forever.


	4. Same Old Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 8, Part 3

More than two months went by. Dean and Sam both texted and called Castiel, but to no avail.

“He must be in trouble,” Sam said one day in early March. “It’s been months since we’ve heard from him, and he hasn’t been to Heaven since he was full of the leviathans.”

“He’s probably fine,” Dean said grumpily. “He’s disappeared on us before, for years at a time! He’s just taking care of angel stuff.”

Dean was lying, of course. He worried about Castiel every day, despite his resolution not to. 

He was sure, however, that the angel was in Heaven. He knew he had no hope of contacting him there except in prayer. So, there was nothing he could do about the situation.

Meanwhile, the brothers had made headway on the quest to close the doors of Hell. Kevin translated the tablet enough to learn that the brothers would have to undergo three trials to complete this mission. In February, Sam completed the first trial successfully by bathing in the blood of a hellhound. Dean would have preferred that he himself be the one to complete the trials, and worried that Sam managed to kill a hellhound first. Still, he resolved to give Sam a chance and help him in whatever way he could.

The quest to close the gates of Hell was aided and abetted by an amazing new discovery that the brothers made in early January. Their paternal grandfather had been a part of a secret society called the Men of Letters. Said grandfather, via the Men of Letters, had left them an amazing bunker that was completely untraceable by phone or by any supernatural being known to man, as well as being warded against supernatural creatures. Dean and Sam moved in and spent several happy hours trying out the water pressure and the various weapons the bunker provided. Sam dedicated time to going through the library in the Men of Letters bunker, and Dean even claimed a room and made himself at home. 

Dean considered changing the warding on the bunker so that Castiel could enter if he desired, but changed his mind. After all, he was still fairly certain something horrible had happened to his friend since Purgatory.

After two months of not seeing Castiel, Dean finally broke down and prayed. _“Cas, you got your ears on? Listen, you know I am not one for praying, 'cause in my book it's the same as begging. But this is about Sam, so I need you to hear me. We are going into this deal blind... and I don't know what's ahead or what it's gonna bring for Sam. Now, he's covering pretty good, but I know that he is hurting, and this one was supposed to be on me. So, for all that we've been through, I'm asking you keep a lookout for my little brother, okay? Where the hell are you, man?”_  
But, just like in Purgatory, there was no answer.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

On some level, Castiel understood what had happened. He understood that a team of angels had worked hard to extract him from Purgatory, and that some of them had died in the process. He understood that Heaven was now under the control of an angel named Naomi, who used to be based in Angel Intelligence. She had a reputation for being as ruthless as she was devious, but not evil. She had always reminded him of Michael, a bit.

He knew, on some level, that she had used all of the spells and devices at Heaven’s disposal to take control of his mind. A small part of him felt that she was justified, and that it was a part of his penance, at least at first. These angels had gotten him out of Purgatory, after all, so they had the right to use him for their purposes. He had once told Dean that his resurrection after the leviathans had taken control of his body had been a punishment, and he believed this now more than ever. He was a warrior, and he had done horrible things in the name of the greater good. He would not be allowed rest, not be allowed death. His powers would be used as the tools of others.

After Castiel brought Samandriel’s remains to Heaven, things became hazy. He lost large chunks of time. He would go to his sanctuary in the Heaven of the autistic man who died in a bathtub, a beautiful garden where the autistic man flew a kite for eternity. He lost hours there, days, and yet it seemed that no time had passed at all. 

He had a dream once that he was surrounded by the bodies of a thousand Dean Winchesters, all dead at his hand. Naomi was there, too, saying, “Finally, you’re ready.” And he felt nothing, but of course it was all a dream. He could never kill his bondmate. And yet angels did not dream…

Thoughts flew from his mind like water through the fingers of his vessel, and he couldn’t seem to catch them and pin them down. Something important about someone named Naomi, and Dean was waiting for him for… _something_ , he was sure. But the thoughts would leave as quickly as they came.

Time passed, and suddenly he was back on Earth again. Castiel was doing Heaven’s bidding this time, he was sure of it. He was a righteous angel again. He was no longer a Fallen.

_That’s what you thought last time._

He was killing demons, and searching for the angel tablet. If it was found by demons, it could be a threat to all angels. The demons had told him it was in Lucifer’s crypt.

_When did he receive these instructions?_

He should’ve known Sam and Dean would catch up with him. He hadn’t exactly been quiet about killing the demons. 

There was something different about Sam. He was sick, very sick… it wasn’t his concern.

_Of course it’s your concern!_

The search for the angel tablet was difficult, but with Dean’s help, he found it.

“I found it!” he exclaimed, returning immediately to Naomi in his mind.

“Tell the Winchester the crypt is empty,” Naomi instructed. “Then you can come back-…”

Castiel shook his head. “It's warded against angels.”

“Well, you can come back-…”

“Crowley's demons are still in town, and we're running out of time,” Castiel explained. “What should I do?”

“Handle it!” Naomi demanded.

“Dean,” Castiel said, pointing across Lucifer’s crypt to the tablet. “That's it.”

“How do you know?”

“It's the only thing in here warded against angels,” Castiel explained. 

Dean picked up the chest containing the tablet and pulled it out. It was still encased in a solid rock covering, dormant for the moment. “Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” Dean said.

“Good,” said Castiel eagerly. “Hand it to me, and I'll take it to Heaven.”

“No, we will take it to Kevin so he can translate,” said Dean defiantly.

An uncomfortable feeling began inside Castiel. It was a prickling of his skin, the way it used to be, before he Fell… _This isn’t right…_

“Right,” said Castiel. “Of course. I'll take it to him right away. No time to waste.”

“Well, he's not that far,” said Dean, looking suspicious of him. “I've been meaning to... go check on him, bring him some supplies.”

“If the demons get their hands on the angel tablet, they'll kill us all,” Naomi was insisting inside his head. “They'll destroy Heaven.”

“I can reason with Dean,” Castiel protested. “He's a good man.” _I love him._

“Kill him!” commanded Naomi.

_I won’t!_

“I can resupply the Prophet, Dean,” Castiel protested. Perhaps he could still convince his old friend.

“You know,” said Dean, increasingly suspicious. “Why don't Sam and I take it over to him, and you can get back to your mission? Finding the other half of the demon tablet -- that is priority, isn't it?”

. “I can’t let you take that, Dean,” Castiel said.

“Can’t or won’t?” Dean asked. He was circling around Castiel, readying himself for a fight. Castiel didn’t want to fight, but he needed the angel tablet.

“Both,” he answered.

Dean paused for a second, then asked, “How did you get out of Purgatory, Cas?”

“There has to be another way,” Castiel insisted to Naomi.

“You have done this a thousand times, Castiel! You're ready. Kill him. Then take the tablet and bring it home, where it belongs.”

The dream came back to him now, and he remembered himself robotically killing a hundred Dean Winchesters, a thousand…

But this was real, no longer a dream. He didn’t want to kill Dean. Naomi was screaming in his head. And Castiel was advancing on Dean. He no longer had control of his vessel…

“Just tell me how you got out of Purgatory,” Dean said. “Be honest with me – for the first time since you’ve been back – and this is yours.”

_No. No, I don’t want to hurt him. It’s not a drill this time. This is real. This isn’t me. I don’t want to. I love him…_ His angel blade dropped into his hand.

“Cas,” said Dean. “Cas, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but if you’re in there and you can hear me, you don’t have to do this! Cas!” 

But Castiel struck out against Dean, who had put up the tablet in defense of himself. 

“This isn't right!” Castiel exclaimed to Naomi.

“Do you realize what that tablet can do for us?” Naomi said forcefully.

“I...”

“For Heaven?”

“I won't hurt Dean!” Castiel said insistently.

“Yes,” Naomi commanded, “You will. You are.”

“Cas, fight this, this is not you!” Dean was screaming. “Fight it!”

Castiel’s head was screaming in pain. “What have you done to me?” he screamed at Naomi. The reality of his vessel, advancing on Dean, and the part of his brain still in Naomi’s office being controlled by her collided with brute force.

“Just relax, Castiel,” she coaxed. “Let your vessel do what you know deep down is the right thing.”

But he fought back desperately for control of his vessel.

“What have you done to me, Naomi?” he screamed at her again.

He only realized he had said it aloud when Dean shouted, “Who is Naomi?”

“What have I done to you?!” Naomi screeched at him, incredulous. “Do you have any idea what it's like out there? There's blood everywhere, and it's on your hands. After everything you did -- to us, to Heaven. I fixed you, Castiel. I fixed you!”

Castiel shrank back from her in horror.

“Cas!” Dean yelled. 

Castiel backhanded Dean, sending him flying across the room. Why wouldn’t his vessel obey him? 

Dean made a run for it, but Castiel stood in front of him and grabbed his hand. He felt Dean’s bones break under his hand, and the giant rock containing the tablet clattered to the floor, breaking to reveal the tablet. Castiel could feel the tablet activate, its power surging through him like a charge. 

Castiel awoke, as if from a spell, in the present once more.

Dean was on his knees in front of Castiel, but still fighting. 

_It was all real! All of it!_

“You want it?” Dean taunted him. “Take it! But you're gonna have to kill me first. Come on, you coward. Do it. Do it!”

“Please!” Castiel begged to Naomi. He could feel himself punching every part of Dean he could find. He was killing him…

“End this, Castiel!” Naomi commanded.

“Cas... This isn't you,” Dean said desperately. “This isn't you…” And still his vessel attacked Dean.

“Bring me the tablet!” commanded Naomi, and Cas raised his blade to finish the job.

“Cas,” Dean said weakly, begging. “Cas! I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. Cas... It's me.”

“ _I know!”_ he tried to shout, but his vessel wouldn’t obey. _“I love you!”_

“We’re family,” Dean said desperately. “We need you… I need you.”

“You have to choose, Castiel -- us or them,” Naomi said fiercely.

 _“When we’re out, we’ll take our time…”_ The words came floating back to him, along with a thousand other memories of Dean. Their bond flared to life deep within Castiel, a thin, sunny lifeline that he clung to. 

_“Let me bottom line it for you: I'm not leaving here without you. Understand?”_

“Cas!” Dean cried one last time. 

With an almighty effort, Castiel dropped his blade. He saw the tablet next to him, and picked it up.

Castiel felt the power of the tablet flow through him. Abruptly, Naomi’s control over him shattered. He returned back to his own mind, fully conscious and full of rage. _He was free again._

“Cas?” Dean asked, looking scared. Had he done that? Dean looked awful… As he came near his friend to heal him, Dean backed away, alarmed. “No. Cas! Cas!”

Castiel healed his friend, horrified at his handywork as he realized just how close he had been to killing his friend.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” he said.

“What the hell just happened?” asked Dean.

“Naomi,” Castiel said. “An angel. She’s in charge of Heaven. She led the angels who got me out of Purgatory. She’s been… in my head. And I didn’t even realize, not really… what month is it? How long have I been in Heaven?”

“It’s March,” said Dean, looking annoyed but concerned. “So, this ‘Naomi’ has been controlling you since she got you out of Purgatory?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

“Well, w-what broke the connection?” asked Dean.

“I don't know,” said Castiel, although he knew perfectly well that it had been his love for Dean and their bond, combined with the power of the tablet. “I just know that I have to protect this tablet now.”

Castiel did some quick thinking. He wanted, desperately, to be with Dean. But Naomi was correct about one thing… the tablet was too important. It had to be hidden. He had to keep it safe… not just from demons, but from Naomi, too.

If Heaven got ahold of the tablet, they could make Kevin translate it. They could use it to make themselves more powerful, or even restart the Apocalypse, if they wanted. They could make him kill more of his brothers, or even the Winchesters. They could cause a genocide. The tablet contained a power that was beyond just the knowledge it contained – his freedom from Naomi was proof of that.

The humans also couldn’t possess the tablet, Castiel realized. Human lives and whims were fleeting, and their powers weak. How many times had the Winchesters and Kevin gained and lost the demon tablet? The tablets’ magic was traceable; he would need to stay on the move. 

With a sinking heart, Castiel realized that yet again he had no time to speak quiet words with his friend. Dean, especially, would need to stay far away from him. If Naomi found Dean, she would be able to use his friend against him.

“From Naomi?” asked Dean, and Castiel’s mind snapped back to the conversation at hand.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “And from you.”

And then he disappeared.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Another month passed with no word from Castiel. Kevin was able to translate the second of the three trials needed to close the gates of Hell, which was to take an innocent soul from Hell and return them to Heaven. Dean recruited Benny’s help, and Benny sacrificed himself in order for Sam and Dean to successfully complete the trial.

Castiel was still suspiciously absent from Dean’s life, but Dean did finally get to meet the hated angel Naomi. She even helped him with the second trial. “See,” she told the brothers before flying away. “I told you you could trust me.”

Dean didn’t trust her at all. He surmised that Castiel was still on the run with the angel tablet, and Naomi was attempting some sort of long-winded effort to get Castiel back on her side. She needn’t have bothered, Dean thought. He didn’t trust her, and he had more important things to worry about at the moment than his rogue angel friend.

Since completing the second trial, Sam had become sicker than ever. Dean’s worry about his brother increased every day. To make matters worse, Kevin was kidnapped yet again by Crowley, the King of Hell, leaving behind only a series of indecipherable scribbles. 

In early May, the brothers caught a break and were able to locate Metatron, God’s scribe who had taken down the Word of God on the tablets in the first place. He helped them rescue Kevin, and finally they learned of the third trial.

“Cure a demon?!” Dean vented to Sam on the way back to Kansas in the Impala. “Okay, ignoring the fact that I have no idea what that actually means, if we do this, you get better, right? I mean, you stop trying to cough up a lung, and bumping into furniture?”

“I feel better, yeah, um, just having a direction to move in,” said Sam. Dark circles hung from his eyes these days, and he always seemed seconds from sleep, though it never seemed to come.

“Well, good, because where we're headed doesn't sound like a picnic,” said Dean.

“But we're heading somewhere,” Sam said tiredly. “The end.”

Suddenly, Dean saw a figure lying in the middle of the dark road. Dean swerved the Impala, shining his headlights on what was unmistakably-

“Cas?” Dean said in recognition. The angel was covered in blood, and didn’t look much better than Sam.

“A little help here?” said the angel.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It had been two months since Dean had last seen Castiel, when he had almost killed Dean and taken off with the tablet. It had been four months since Dean had last had a real conversation with Castiel, shortly after he had stayed for Christmas.

It all came down to the same issue, Dean reflected. Castiel had let the leviathans gain control because he hadn’t trusted the Winchesters with his problems and allowed them to help him face off against Raphael. He had chosen to take everything on himself, and had broken open Purgatory and let out the monsters. 

In Purgatory, Castiel had abandoned Dean because he once again had taken everything on himself. Dean had had to spend months looking for the angel before he could leave. Even then the angel hadn’t trusted him enough to leave with him.

Now, it was the same story: Castiel had taken on the burden of the tablet himself, and not allowed Dean to help. Now, Castiel reported, the tablet was in Crowley’s hands. Naomi had caught up with Castiel, finally, and Crowley had confronted both of them and come out victorious.

Always, the same mistakes. Dean was so angry that a very small part of him hoped that Crowley managed to use the tablet to seal all the angels in Heaven, Castiel included. Aside from Castiel himself, the angels had never exactly been friendly, after all. Cas was the only one he would miss; the rest of them just caused problems.

More than a week went by. Sam invited Castiel to stay at the bunker to heal from his wounds, and changed the warding so that he could enter. Dean didn’t object, hoping that the angel would be able to help with Sam’s illness, or at least lessen his symptoms. Still, that didn’t mean Dean had to be friendly toward the angel. When Castiel walked into a room, Dean walked out. When Castiel attempted to make conversation, Dean did his best to make him feel unwelcome. When Castiel apologized, Dean told him to “take your little apology and cram it up your ass.”

“Dean… I thought I was doing the right thing,” Castiel protested.

“Yeah,” Dean said coldly. “You always do.” 

Finally, when Dean left with Sam to attempt to cure a demon, he insisted that Castiel stay behind. He was tired… tired of the same old mistakes. Their connection, their _thing_ … clearly it had been a _thing_ of the past.

By the time Dean and Sam returned to the bunker from their trip seeking information about the third trial, Castiel had left. 

“I can’t find Cas,” Sam said. “Do you think he blew town?”

“Sounds like him,” Dean said. Yet again, he had abandoned Dean. Typical. 


	5. Duty Before Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 8, Part 4

The next time Dean saw Castiel, he and Sam were in the final stretch of completing the third trial. Their plan to capture Crowley went flawlessly (which Dean tried not to find suspicious). The angel tablet that Castiel had lost had been with Crowley, so they had managed to get it back as well. They had taken Crowley to consecrated ground (an abandoned church) and chained him in place with a spray-painted Devil’s trap and demon-spelled chains they had found in the Men of Letters’ bunker. They were now facing an 8-hour exorcism procedure completed and perfected by a priest in the late ‘50’s to cure a demon (before his untimely death).

Sam had gone to confession to purify his blood, and Dean was loading his gun when he heard the sound of wings behind him. 

“I need your help, Dean,” said the angel. 

“Little busy, Cas, take a number,” Dean said.

“I’m afraid this can’t wait,” Castiel insisted. “Naomi has taken Metatron.”

Dean stood up in surprise. “And you know Metatron how?”

“I’ve been working with him on the angel trials,” Castiel answered.

“The _what?”_ said Dean in surprise.

“We’re gonna shut it all down,” said Castiel. “Heaven, Hell, all of it.”

“Metatron?” Dean asked in disbelief. “The guy who was full-on crazy, cat-lady-hoarder angel yesterday – now he wants to save Heaven?”

“Yes, he wants to,” Castiel said. “But I’m the only one who can. I can’t fail, Dean, not on this one. I need your help.”

Dean looked at his friend and remembered, in that split second, why he had considered Castiel his friend for so long. The look on Castiel’s face, so desperate to succeed, said it all. He knew he had messed up, both before Purgatory and after, and was desperate to make it right. _If I see what Heaven's become - what I made of it... I'm afraid I might kill myself._ Dean could feel the anger begin to leak out of him.

And yet.

“Look, Cas, that’s all well and good, okay, but you’re asking me to leave Sam. And we’ve got Crowley in there tied and tressed. Now if anybody needs a chaperone while doing the heavy lifting, it’s Sam,” protested Dean.

“You should go,” said Sam, walking up behind them. “Seriously.”

“And leave you here with the King of Hell?” asked Dean, alarmed. “Come on!”

“I got this,” Sam said, looking tired. “And if you guys can lock the angels up, too...That's a good day.”

Thunder crashed outside, and Dean wondered briefly if it was the weather, or if it was the Earth reacting to how near they were to closing the gates of hell.

Dean sighed. Sam was sick, but he was also more than capable of completing the 8-hour procedure on his own. Crowley was secure, he’d made sure of it, and there were no other demons or threats within spitting distance. “Look, I... I'm down with sending the angels back to Heaven, just 'cause they're dicks. But the demons? This is on us. Start the injections now. If I'm not back in eight hours, finish it, no questions, no hesitation.”

The next second, Castiel had flown him away.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

When Dean and Castiel landed, they were in front of a bar called “Doc Marley’s.”

“You have the angel tablet,” said Castiel. “I can sense it. Give it to me. Please, Dean.”

Dean backed away from Castiel, immediately incensed. _Of course_. Castiel hadn’t _really_ needed his help… he just wanted the tablet. “Why? Are you going to beat me up again?” he snapped.

Castiel looked as though he had been backhanded. The air went out of him in one breath, and he sagged visibly. “Dean, I… I’m sorry. Naomi… I never would’ve done that to you. She was controlling me. I… I thought you knew.”

Castiel looked so much like a kicked puppy that Dean relented, at least slightly. “I know, man. You’re sure you’re free of her?”

“I’m sure, Dean. She no longer has a hold over me.”

“Good,” Dean said. “Then why do you need the tablet?”

“Metatron and I were working to shut the gates of Heaven, with the angels inside, when he was taken by Naomi,” Castiel answered. “He remembered the trials from his time with God writing the tablets. But now that he’s been taken, I’m not sure what the third trial was.” He looked imploringly at Dean. “Dean, I have to make this right. I caused the problems, and I need to fix them. And _this_ time I’m _asking_ you for help. Like you wanted, remember? I’m not just trying to handle it all myself.”

Finally, for the first time in months, Dean felt the anger leak out of him. In a far-off corner of his mind, he remembered feeling Castiel’s stubble on his chest. A fond feeling enveloped him, and it felt like Purgatory.

“Okay,” Dean relented, taking the tablet from his bag. “In that case, if you’re really going to close Heaven, you’ll need access to the angel tablet and the prophet. He’s at the bunker now.” 

The look on Castiel’s face was nothing short of excited glee. It was the look he used to get in Purgatory after a long battle, just before he and Dean would pin each other against a tree and stick their tongues down each other’s throats.

It was infectious, and Dean smiled back at him.

The next second, Castiel had transported both of them to the bunker.

Kevin, the prophet, was less than happy at the prospect of translating another tablet. “It's the angel tablet, which I've never laid eyes on in my life,” he snapped at them. “You want a translation in like six hours when it took me six months and a dead mom to translate a piece of the demon tablet?” He laughed and poured himself a drink. "And according to your own words this morning, this is not what I do. It's what I _did_. You told me I was out, Dean.”

Dean wished his words of comfort that morning could’ve come true for the kid. “Yeah, well-…”

“…And if this is gonna be the ‘guys like us are never out’ speech, save it,” Kevin snapped.

Suddenly, Castiel grabbed Kevin by his sweater and yanked him up sharply, causing his glass to crash to the floor. “Dean’s right!” he yelled.

“Cas!” Dean exclaimed.

“There is no out,” said Castiel. “Only duty.”

“Get the hell off me!” snapped Kevin.

“You are a Prophet of the Lord, always and forever... until the day you cease to exist, and then another Prophet takes your place,” Castiel amended. “Now, are you clear as to the task before you?”

Kevin nodded.

“Then do it, and let's go,” Castiel said, putting Kevin down.

He grabbed Dean, and a second later they were in front of Doc Marley’s.

“Cas!” Dean exclaimed when he regained his center of balance. “You’ve gotta chill, man. You’re being a dick angel again. You can’t just threaten people to get what you want!”

Castiel looked murderous for a second but then, once again, he deflated. “Dean, I can’t fail again! First the leviathans, and then Naomi… I _won’t_ fail again.”

“I know, man,” Dean said again, putting a hand on his friends’ shoulder. Castiel looked at his hand in mild surprise. It was the kind of gesture common in Purgatory, but never done in front of Sam. It had been ages now since Dean had shown him any sort of affection.

“What’s up with this bar?” Dean asked, uncomfortable. Affectionate touches were what they _used_ to do, but he wasn’t sure what they did _now_.

“It’s where Metatron was taken from me by Naomi and the other angels,” said Castiel. “And it’s also the location of the second of three trials. The bartender in there is scheduled to be hit by cupid’s bow sometime this afternoon. That’s the trial – to get a bow from a cupid.”

Dean shrugged. “Sounds easy enough for you,” he said.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Two hours later, there was still no cupid. Actually, the bar was almost empty aside from the bartender and one patron watching the television. After about twenty minutes, Castiel had gone outside to scout prospective females and bring them into the bar. Dean thought that perhaps Castiel would do more harm than good at this endeavor, but in honor of their newly repaired friendship, he kept his opinions to himself. After all, if a cupid was involved, it was likely that this man’s soul mate would find him with or without Castiel’s help; all they had to do was wait.

Dean did call Sam, however, to check in. “It’s good here, Dean,” Sam said. He sounded tired and a little pissed off, but otherwise good. “Crowley bit me, the limey prick,” he added. “But other than that, I’m good. It’s been quiet. You do what you’ve gotta do, man.”

“I’ll be back before the 8-hour mark,” Dean promised.

“Yeah, I know,” Sam said.

Castiel came in a few minutes later. “Anything?” Dean asked him. “You've been gone long enough.”

“No,” Castiel answered glumly. “There was one female, but...”

“What?” asked Dean.

“I don't think she was female,” Castiel finished. “Anything here?”

“Free drinks,” Dean said, smirking. “Your, uh, buddy over there thinks you saved his life.”

Castiel held up two fingers for the bartender, whose name was Dwight. “Do you really think it's wise to be drinking on the job?”

“What show have you been watching?” Dean said sarcastically, and Castiel seemed to accept this explanation. “Talk to me,” Dean said. “Are you sure about this? I mean, it's one thing that me and Sammy are slamming the gates to the pit, but you're boarding up Heaven, and you're locking the door behind you.”

As he spoke, Dean realized for the first time that if Castiel succeeded, he wouldn’t get to see the angel again until he died. He felt suddenly as though his stomach was full of worms.

_“…When we’re out, we can take our time…”_

“Yeah. I know,” Castiel said glumly, which was _not_ what Dean wanted to hear.

“You did a lot of damage up there, man. Do you think they're just gonna let that slide?”

“Do you mean do I think they'll kill me?” Castiel asked. “Yeah, they might.”

Dean tried not to show how much these words hurt him. “So this is it?” Dean asked. “E.T. goes home?” He realized a second too late that Castiel had missed the reference, but it didn’t matter. Suddenly, both of them were distracted by the opening of the door to the bar.

“Hey there.”

“Hey, there,” said Dwight the bartender. “Where's Ed?”

“Flu,” responded a lady carrying crates of beer. She wore a uniform stating she was from the “All American Beverage Company.” “I'm Gail.”

“Well, okay, then,” responded Dwight.

“Showtime,” said Dean under his breath.

“Let me give you a hand,” Dwight offered.

“Oh, thanks,” said Gail as Dwight lifted one of her cases of beer. “You're a real gentleman.” 

She looked toward the ever-present patron currently sitting at the bar and smiled. “Hey.”

“Holy crud, this is like the first five minutes of every porno I've ever seen,” Dean commented to Castiel.

Gail handed a pen to Dwight to sign for the beer, and Dwight signed his name on the line. “Gail. Rod,” he said, gesturing to the bar’s only other patron. 

“Ma’am,” Rod said in greeting, tipping his baseball cap.

“Rod rides a stool here most days,” added Dwight.

Gail placed a hand on each man’s shoulder and smiled. “I’ll be seeing you both. Thanks for the help.”

“No problem,” said Dwight as Gail left. 

_Where’s she going? She can’t leave yet._ But Castiel remained unbothered.

Dean felt confused, as though he had missed a step.

Both men had lapsed into a brief silence, watching a man shooting arrows on the screen. Then at the same time, they said, “Damn, that’s sweet!”

Suddenly Dean understood. _Gail_ was the cupid; Dwight and Rod both liked men. The bolt of understanding left him slow to respond.

The men were staring into each other’s eyes looking surprised. “How about the next one’s on me?” Dwight asked Rod, but Castiel was already on his feet.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Ten minutes later, Castiel let out a sigh of relief. “Two trials down. One to go. And then we can shut it all down.”

Castiel was going to leave _again,_ and this time it would be permanent.

It had been Dwight and Rod’s fault, Dean decided. When Dean had watched the two of them, suddenly he had seen, in their places, himself and Castiel. It was an uncomfortable thought, and it occurred to him much later that it had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t expected either of the men in the bar to be attracted to other men. They were both “man’s men”, like him…

Dean had the sense that he had missed out on something horribly important (although he didn’t know what) by not doing _something_ about his… alright, his _feelings_ for Castiel before now. He had thought he would always have time, somehow, because Castiel always came back. Now, if his friend closed the doors to Heaven, he _wouldn’t_ come back. Suddenly, something inside Dean felt as though it was being ripped open. It sounded like his own desperate screams when Cas had abandoned him in Purgatory.

Just as suddenly, Dean’s thoughts were wrenched back to the present as, just in time, he dodged Castiel’s attempt to transport him somewhere.

“Dude!” he exclaimed. “Slow down! I’ve been flown all over the US tonight!”

Castiel sighed as though Dean were being very annoying. “We need to talk to Kevin and see if he’s been able to translate the tablet,” he said gruffly.

_Right. Yeah_. So that Castiel could leave again.

“Let’s just call him!” Dean exclaimed, because angel transport always made him feel constipated, despite his _feelings_ for the angel in question.

Castiel looked murderous, but put his hand down. Dean tried to push aside his thoughts about how much he would miss the angel, and instead focus on the present.

“I think I found the angel trials, but I don't see anything about a nephilim or a cupid's bow or anything like that,” Kevin told Dean and Castiel over the phone.

“Oh, c’mon, Kev,” Dean said. “We’re on the one yard line here!” He really needed to get back to his brother eventually. 

“Okay,” Kevin snapped. “I should have mentioned this six months ago, but the sports metaphors don’t work. If you want to motivate me: ‘Magic’ cards, ‘Skyrim,’ Aziz Ansari.”

“What?” Dean snapped. “Yeah, I don't know what those words mean.”

Dean heard wings rustling behind him. Castiel was still next to him, so this meant company of the kind he wanted to lock in Heaven, permanently.

Sure enough, the angel Naomi appeared in front of them. “I'm not here to fight you, Castiel. Not anymore.”

“Where is Metatron?” Castiel said viciously. He looked murderous.

“He told you he was going to fix Heaven, didn't he?” asked Naomi. “Murdering a nephilim, cutting off a cupid's bow -- it's a lie, all of it. I've been in his head.”

_Wait. Castiel murdered a nephilim?_

“You've been in all our heads,” Castiel agreed, his anger palpable. “That's the problem.”

“No, Castiel, you're wrong,” she insisted.

Castiel shook his head. “This is what you do. You twist things. I'm trying to fix Heaven. Metatron is trying to fix Heaven.”

“Metatron isn't trying to fix anything,” Naomi insisted. “He's trying to break it -- an act of revenge for driving him away.”

Dean’s hunter instincts flared. He could tell, instinctually, that she was telling the truth. “Break it how?” Dean asked.

Castiel gave Dean an irritated look. “Dean,” he protested. Normally Castiel would have been able to tell that Naomi was telling the truth as well, but his instincts were warped by his hatred for Naomi. After everything she had put him through, Dean supposed he could understand that. Castiel had told him once that “the truth can be situational”, as well.

“Expel all angels from Heaven, just as God cast out Lucifer,” explained Naomi.

“Cast you out? To where?” Dean asked. “Hell?”

Naomi shook her head. “Here. Thousands of us, walking the Earth.”

“Lies,” Castiel said angrily, and he began to charge at Naomi with his angel blade out.

“Wait!” Dean said, attempting to hold him back. He wanted to listen to what Naomi was saying. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the angel was telling the truth.

“Our mission was to protect what God created,” Naomi said. “I don't know when we forgot that.”

She sighed, then spoke to Dean. “I want nothing more than to see you shut the gates of Hell, but I told you that you could trust me. If Sam completes those trials, he is going to die.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Dean. Panic alarms flared in his mind, and everything – the demon trials, the angel trials, even Castiel – paled in comparison to this.

“I saw it in Metatron's head,” Noami insisted. “It was always God's intention -- the ultimate sacrifice.” 

She turned to Castiel, and he stared back at her, seething, but visibly shaken. “As for you, Castiel, I beg of you, stop this path. Metatron has been neutralized. If you want back in, truly, I will listen.”

Dean spoke into the phone to Kevin. “Hey… right now, talk to me. Is she lying?”

“She's lying,” Castiel insisted, seething.

“I don’t know!” Kevin’s voice said, panicked.

“Well find out!” Dean demanded. Then he turned to Castiel. “Take me to him,” he demanded, worried for his brother. 

“Dean --…” Castiel protested.

“Take me to him now!” Dean said again, panic throbbing through his veins. 

Castiel brought Dean back to the church where he had first found him, and Dean began to run inside.

“Dean!” Castiel called after him, and he turned. “I'm not wrong,” Castiel insisted. “I'm going to fix my home.”

Dean held out his hand to call a warning, but Castiel disappeared.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Naomi, as it turned out, had been telling the truth. Oddly, Sam was not surprised about the news of his impending death. He seemed to feel that his death was a small price to pay for shutting the demons in Hell. Moreover, Dean was horrified to learn that Sam was completing the trials as some sort of act of redemption: “you think I screw up everything I try. You think I need a chaperone, remember?”

“Come on, man,” Dean protested. “That's not what I meant.”

“No, it's exactly what you meant,” Sam retorted. “You want to know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you down. I can't do that again!”

“Sam --…” Dean protested.

Sam was crying now. “What happens when you've decided I can't be trusted again? I mean, who are you gonna turn to next time instead of me? Another angel, another vampire?”

Dean was stunned. “Hold on, hold on! You seriously think that? Because none of it -- none of it -- is true. Listen, man, I know we've had our disagreements, okay? Hell, I know I've said some junk that set you back on your heels. But, Sammy...come on… I’m willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom walk because of you. Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you.”

He thought for a second of Castiel, who was the same. Duty before happiness, always. Despite his feelings for Dean, Castiel had felt the need to stay in Purgatory, to run away and keep the tablet safe, and now to complete the angel trials and save Heaven. And despite his… yes, fine, his _feelings_ , for Castiel, Dean would always, _always_ choose Sam.

And then Sam slumped over in his arms, gasping and coughing. Dean called for Castiel, but then he saw that the sky was full of shooting stars.

It was the angels, falling to Earth, and Dean knew that Castiel had failed, too, and he was alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a lot more plotty plot in this chapter that is actually in canon instead of behind the scenes than I typically prefer, but there were a few things that I wanted to show from Dean’s point of view. The scene where Dean watches the cupid and the two gay men, for example, had to be put in here in detail.


	6. Pitfalls of Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 9, Part 1

Sam was dying. He was currently in a coma, but according to the local hospital’s neurologist and grief counselor, the outcome wasn’t looking good. Dean prayed to Castiel, but his old friend was silent.

_Typical_ , Dean thought again, and then felt a twinge of guilt, followed by fear. Naomi had been right, and Metatron had manipulated Castiel into helping him kick the angels out of Heaven – that much was obvious. Castiel might be dead, or horribly wounded.

In the end, another angel, Ezekiel, came to Dean’s aid. 

While Ezekiel attempted to heal Sam, Dean got a call from Castiel. A spike of relief shot through him.

“Cas, what the hell's going on?” he asked.

“Metatron tricked me. It wasn't angel trials. It was a spell. I wanted you to know that.”

Dean had already assumed that much. “Okay. That's great, but we've got ourselves a problem.”

“What's wrong?” asked Castiel.

“Sam. He's, um – they say he's dying,” Dean admitted.

“What happened?” Castiel asked, sounding worried.

“I don't know,” Dean said. “I mean, first he was okay, and then he wasn't. And I – have you heard my prayers? I've been praying to you all night.”

“Dean, Metatron – he – he took my grace,” Castiel said, sounding ashamed.

“What?” Dean said, stunned. What would Castiel be like without his angel powers? Was he human? He was almost certainly in danger…

“Don't worry about me,” Castiel said. “What are you doing for Sam?”

“Uh, everything I can. There's actually another angel in there working on him right now.”

“What other angel?”

“Um, his name is Ezekiel. He's cool. I mean, I think he is.”

“Ezekiel. Yes,” said Castiel, and Dean was relieved to hear approval seep into his friend’s voice. “He's a good soldier. He should be able to help until I get there.”

 _What? No. Wait._ If Cas had no grace, he needed to take care of _himself_ for once. He had no business risking his life to come help Sam, especially if he couldn’t use his grace to heal him… “Wait, no, no, no. No, hey, that's not an option.”

“It might be a few days, but –…”

“Hey, Cas, listen to me,” Dean cut Castiel off. “There are angels out there, okay? And they – they're looking for you, and they're pissed.” Dean had almost been killed by one of them that morning.

“Not all of them, Dean,” said Castiel. “Some are just looking for direction. Some are just lost.”

“What are you talking about?” snapped Dean.

“I met one. I think I can help her, Dean.”

“No, Cas,” Dean argued, trying to keep his voice down in the hospital. “I know you want to help, okay? I do, but helping angels is what got you in trouble in the first place. Now, I'm begging you – for once, look out for yourself. Until we figure out what the hell is going on, trust nobody.”

“And do what?” Castiel said stubbornly. “Just abandon them all?”

“Damn it, Cas!” Dean argued. The two most important people in his life seemed hellbent on self-destruction. “Are you hearing yourself? There's a war on, and it's on you! There are thousands of them out th– You said you lost your grace, right? That means you're human. That means you bleed and you eat and you sleep and all the things you never had to worry about before!”

“I'm fine, Dean,” said Castiel.

They were cut off shortly after that because more angels arrived at the hospital where Sam was staying. Dean yelled, “Get your ass to the bunker, alone. You hear me?” before hanging up to meet the oncoming threat.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean didn’t hear from Castiel again for nearly a month. Castiel had no phone of his own, so Dean had to hope that he could make it to the bunker. Dean reasoned that despite the fact that Castiel would be dealing with human things for the first time, he was still a good fighter – a warrior, even. Castiel had also been living on Earth for a decent amount of time, another advantage he would have over his angry angelic brothers and sisters. He would know to get an Enochian tattoo, and if things got bad enough on the “dealing with humanity” front, he knew Dean’s number.

Meanwhile, Ezekiel was unable to heal Sam quickly, but he offered to possess Sam and heal him from the inside until Sam was healthy again. With Dean’s permission, Ezekiel tricked Sam into allowing the possession to occur without Sam’s knowledge. Ezekiel lay dormant inside Sam, healing but allowing Sam to “drive the train,” so to speak. 

Sam awakened the next day with no memory of the hospital. Dean felt guilty about lying to his brother, but he felt it was necessary. Sam would never have agreed to the possession on his own, and Dean couldn’t stand to lose him.

The brothers had their hands full after that – Abaddon, a Knight of Hell, was on the loose, Crowley was trapped in the bunker refusing to give up information, and thousands of angels had been let loose on the world, confused and mutinous.

Weeks went by. Ezekiel informed Dean that he was unable to reach Castiel on angel radio, but that no news of Castiel was good news. Ezekiel also informed Dean that the angels were organizing into factions, and that the leadership of the main faction was spearheading the search for Castiel.

With Crowley chained for the moment and Abaddon in the wind, Dean and Sam went in search of Castiel. With the help of Ezekiel, they managed to save Castiel from a rogue reaper-for-hire named April that was working for the angels. She had actually managed to kill Castiel, but the brothers arrived just in time and Ezekiel brought Castiel back to life before a reaper could claim him.

Castiel looked different than Dean remembered him, and more like the angel he had known in Purgatory. He was unshaven and unkempt, which was a turn-on due to its reminder of the time they’d spent together in the monster’s hell. He also wore different clothes, cargo pants and a zip-up jacket. They made him seem more accessible and were also – apparently - a turn-on. Dean forcibly reminded himself that it had been nearly a year since he and Castiel had last fooled around, and that Castiel had bigger worries at the moment.

The ride from Detroit, where Castiel had been found, to Kansas was long, but Dean was happy: his best friend and his brother were both safe. 

After awhile, Sam fell asleep in passenger seat, and Dean felt safe to talk openly.

“Cas, man, why didn’t you come to the bunker like I told you to?” asked Dean.

It was silent for so long that Dean thought Castiel was asleep, his face partially obscured by the darkness. Finally Castiel said, “I thought you were angry with me. And… I was ashamed.” 

“I was angry with you, but… I got past it,” Dean said. “I know you did what you thought you had to.”

Castiel made a noise that might have been assent, and then was quiet for several moments. Finally he said slowly, “With you… Sam comes first. Before everything else. That has always been your priority.”

“Yeah?” Dean challenged, because that was like saying that “the sky is blue.”

“I have put you above my priorities and duties several times, Dean,” Castiel said.

“I can’t always-…” Dean started.

“You misunderstand me,” said Castiel gently. “I have put you above my priorities and duties several times, _but_ you must understand that there is little I wouldn’t do to correct my mistakes in Heaven, and to protect those of my brothers and sisters that are left.”

Dean sighed. “I know, Cas. I… realized that.”

Castiel was silent, but he seemed to have relaxed, just slightly.

“We’ll get through it together, okay?” Dean said reassuringly. “We’ll find a way to get the angels back into Heaven, _together_. Okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed slowly.

“You’re going to stay at the bunker now, though, right?” Dean asked. “Kevin is still translating the angel tablet, and maybe we can find something there.” _Please stay._

“I think that would be for the best,” said Castiel. “I’ll help out with jobs when I can, and research. I’ll earn my keep.”

“There’s no need,” said Dean. “You’re family.”

It was the best Dean had felt in a long time.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean was eating a burrito with Sam when Castiel emerged from the shower, freshly shaved and looking clean. “I am really enjoying this place,” he said. “Plentiful food. Good water pressure. Things I never even considered before. There really is a lot to being human, isn't there?”

Dean took in Castiel’s appearance, wondering if he might be up for other “human” endeavors later. Maybe, just _maybe_ they could find some part of what they had in Purgatory. “It ain't all just burritos and strippers, my friend.”

“Yeah,” Castiel agreed. “I understand what you're saying.”

“You do?” asked Sam doubtfully.

“Yes, there's more to humanity than survival,” Castiel said. “You... look for purpose, and you must not be defeated by anger or despair. Or hedonism, for that matter.”

“Where does hedonism come into it?” asked Dean.

“Well, my time with April was very educational,” Castiel said, smiling.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I mean, I would think that getting killed is something.”

“And having sex,” agreed Castiel, completely straight-faced.

Dean choked on his burrito. He suddenly felt as though he wanted to throw up. It was like his stomach had been invaded by aliens that were determined to burst out.

He tried not to show it. “You had sex with April?” he said, trying (and failing) not to sound angry.

“Yeah, that would be where the hedonism comes in,” Sam said simply, but Dean shushed him. 

Perhaps it was a joke. Castiel, getting a girl into bed? It was funny, was that it?

“So... did you have protection?” It was the first thing Dean could think to ask that would be appropriate to ask while Sam was present.

“I had my angel blade,” said Castiel.

“Oh – oh, he had the Angel blade,” Dean repeated. It was a struggle to hold back his annoyance, and the butterflies in his stomach that he didn’t recognize. He should be happy for Castiel… it should be funny.

“In any event, I – I do now see how difficult life can be and how well you two have led it. And I think you'll be great teachers.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said, still trying to find his dignity.

“Are there any more burritos?” Castiel asked, completely clueless.

“Uh, yes,” Dean said, pointing toward the kitchen. Castiel went to fetch burritos.

Dean attempted to laugh it off. “Our little Cas,” he said. “He gave it up to a reaper. That is—…”

“Castiel cannot stay here,” said Sam, and Dean realized with annoyance that Ezekiel had taken back over. “He will bring the angels down on all of us.”

A completely new panic took over. Before, it had been a sharp stirring in his gut, as though his food wasn’t digesting properly… now, it was the ice-cold hands of terror. “No, no, he's got the Enochian tattoo,” he protested. “He's warded.”

“He was warded when April found him, and she killed him,” Ezekiel replied.

“Yes, and you brought him back, and I thank you for that, but this is Cas, okay, who vouched for you when I didn't know you from Jack. The bunker is safe,” Dean insisted.

“Bartholomew is massing a force. We cannot stand an incursion,” Ezekiel argued. “Castiel is in danger, and if he is here, I am in danger.”

“Wait, you're in danger? From who, the angels?” snapped Dean, irritation and panic threatening to explode.

“If he stays, I am afraid I will have no choice but to leave,” Ezekiel said.

“Oh, no, you can't do that!” Dean argued, because the idea was ludicrous. “Sam's not well enough. If you leave his body...”

“I know. I am sorry,” said Ezekiel.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It took Dean nearly an hour to work up to the conversation he knew was coming. So close. He had been _so close_ to actually having… something. Maybe. After all, Castiel was human now, and having sex with other people. But maybe the angel wouldn’t have even wanted… something.

Dean found Castiel in the library, sitting at a table and happily eating a burrito.

“Epic food. I can't get enough,” Castiel said.

“Cas, uh, can we talk?” Dean asked. He did _not_ want to have this conversation.

“Of course,” said Castiel, pulling out a chair for Dean. “Dean, you know I always appreciate our talks, our time together.”

Dean avoided the chair and sat on the table. Perhaps it was better to rip it off like a band-aid.

“Listen, buddy. Um... You can't stay,” he said.

Dean wished more than anything in the world that he didn’t have to make Cas leave. The look Castiel gave him was pure hurt.

“I… I don’t understand,” he said. “You said in the car-…”

“Cas… remember how we talked about how you would do anything to repair Heaven, and I would do anything for Sam?”

Castiel continued to stare at him, which Dean took as an invitation to continue.

“Well… this is the last thing I want to do, Cas, but… some things have come up. Sam, he’s… he’s sicker than I thought he was, from the trials. Sicker than he’ll admit to anyone.”

“Did something happen?” Castiel asked, looking concerned.

“What?” Dean asked. “No. No, it’s just… I thought about everything, and… the angels know that the two of us are friends. This is the first place they’ll look, Cas. It’s not a good place for you to be, and Sam, Sam can’t fight right now like he… like he wants to… I’m so sorry, man.”

Castiel gave a small smile, and Dean knew that he’d accepted Dean’s story. “I wish I could heal him, but I am no longer useful.”

“No!” Dean said, a small part of him breaking. “No, Cas, that’s not it-…”

But Castiel shook his head. “It is too much of a risk. Now that Naomi has invaded my mind, other angels may know about the bunker, and this will be the first place they’ll look for me.” 

Dean hadn’t even _thought_ of that, but Castiel was correct. Dean felt hopeless. “I just… I want to protect you as much as I can, and Sammy, too. But… here’s what I’ll do. Do you know how to use a credit card?”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean set Castiel up with a credit card, a fake ID, a fake birth certificate, a suitcase full of clothes, a cell phone, and everything else he could think of that his friend might need. He apologized profusely for kicking him out of the bunker, and when Castiel finally set off, Dean was semi-confident that the angel at least considered him a friend.

For the next few days, Dean walked around in a fowl mood. Sam commented on it but listened to Dean’s excuses, each time growing more and more suspicious. 

Three days after kicking Castiel out of the bunker, Dean came downstairs to wash a cup of coffee to find Sam asleep at the table in the library. Suddenly his eyes flashed blue, and Dean realized that Ezekiel wanted a word.

“Zeke? Is something wrong with Sam?”

“Your brother is fine,” the angel said. “I know that you are angry that Castiel could not continue to stay, so I want to give you some information that might help.”

“It’s fine, Zeke, I understand-…”

“Sam is aware that something is going on between you and Castiel,” said Ezekiel.

It was only a lifetime’s worth of hunter reflexes that stopped Dean from dropping his coffee cup on the floor.

“I-… _what?”_

“He didn’t know how to ask you about his suspicions without embarrassing you or incurring your wrath,” said Ezekiel. “But he has known for awhile, since long before Purgatory.”

“There’s nothing-…”

“You love him,” Ezekiel told Dean. “And he loves you in return.”

“I don’t-…”

“And Sam is fine with it.”

“He… what?”

But Sam was once more leaned over on the table asleep, letting out soft snores.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean wasn’t yet sure what to do with Ezekiel’s revelation that Sam knew about him and Castiel. So, he did what he did with all hard things, and didn’t think about it. He didn’t think about the fact that it had been nearly a year since he and Castiel had been intimate. He didn’t think about the fact that a large part of him had imagined that _he_ would take Castiel’s virginity, when the time came. He determinedly didn’t think about Castiel in bed with April the reaper, and he didn’t try to figure out when Sam might have cottoned on to the fact that he and Castiel were more than just friends. He didn’t think about how horrible he felt for having to kick Castiel out, or how much he wanted to go find Castiel to make sure he was okay.

Or, at least, Dean _tried_ not to think about those things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding this chapter, I know there’s a whole school of thought about how Dean abandons Cas when Cas needs him most by kicking him out, and this betrayal on Dean’s part has spawned a ridiculous amount of fanfiction. I’m just… I’m not convinced. I think Dean’s done a lot of awful things to Cas over the years and vice versa, but I can’t see a situation where Dean would say, “You can’t stay,” and not follow this up with, “Here’s some real-world knowledge and $100.” In actuality, Castiel’s worst times – the times he’s shown hungry, wounded, and staying at a homeless shelter – occurred before Dean kicked him out, when Dean had no way of contacting him because Castiel decided to try to help the wayward angels instead of hauling ass to the bunker like Dean suggested. After Dean kicked him out, we see him working at a Gas ‘N Sip. Admittedly he seems to be bunking down in the Gas ‘N Sip, but he at least seems to have collected some supplies, some hygiene, and some dignity. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.


	7. Not Just Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 9, Part 2

Months passed, and summer turned into fall.

Dean still talked with Castiel occasionally, and even offered to visit, however Castiel always declined. He knew that his friend was embarrassed and guilty about no longer having his angelic powers, and so he gave him space. Over time, their phone calls became fewer and farther between.

Finally, Castiel called him about a possible case in Rexford, Idaho. Despite giving Dean details about the case, Castiel didn’t tell Dean where he was staying, claimed he was “busy”, and hung up abruptly afterward. 

Dean decided to head for Idaho without Sam. Sam complicated things when it came to Castiel, and Ezekiel complicated them even more.

Dean found Castiel working at a Gas N’ Sip. “I'll have some beef jerky and a pack of menthols,” Dean said, walking up to the Gas N’ Sip counter.

Castiel seemed to be in a decent mood, but upon seeing Dean he did a double take. “What are you doing here?” he asked. He looked surprised, and even annoyed.

“Gee, it's nice to see you, too, Cas,” said Dean sarcastically.

“It's Steve now,” Castiel said, gesturing toward his employee name badge. Dean remembered vaguely that the fake birth certificate and driver’s license he had given Cas had been issued to a “Steve.” “And... uh, you know you surprised me.” Castiel looked around to see if anyone was listening.

“Well, the feeling is mutual,” said Dean. “I mean, I knew you had to lay low from the angel threat, but, uh, wow. This is some cover.”

“My grace is gone,” said Castiel, speaking in a low voice. “What did you expect? Do you have any idea how hard it was? When I fell to Earth, I didn't just lose my powers. I had nothing. Now… I'm a sales associate!” He stood up proudly.

“A sales associate?” Dean asked in disbelief.

Castiel took a clipboard offered by a beer salesman that had entered and signed for the beer. “I'm responsible for inventory, sales, customer service. I keep this place clean and presentable. And when my manager's busy, I even prepare the food.”

_What the actual fuck._

“Wow,” said Dean. He should’ve ignored Castiel’s protests and visited him earlier. He hadn’t realized things had gotten this bad. “So you went from fighting heavenly battles to nuking taquitos?”

“Nachos too,” Castiel agreed proudly.

“This is not you, man,” Dean protested as Castiel stocked the gas station shelves. “You are above this. Come on.”

“No, Dean,” Castiel said stubbornly, turning to face him. “I'm not. I failed at being an angel. Everything I ever attempted came out wrong. But here, at least I have a shot at getting things right. I guess you can't see it, but … there's a real dignity in what I do – human dignity.”

A blond woman wearing a blue uniform like Castiel’s emerged suddenly from the bathrooms. “Hate to interrupt you guys, but, Steve? Customer had an accident in the men's room.”

“I'm on it,” Castiel said with a smile.

“Oh, and tonight – 7:00 at my place work for you?”

“Great,” said Castiel. Dean felt that horrible squirming in his stomach again, and _oh my God._ It was _jealousy!_ He was _jealous!_

“You're the best!” said the woman, disappearing back into the back of the gas station. Dean wanted to hurl.

Quickly, Dean collected himself and turned back to Castiel. After all, he had no claim on the angel – he himself had made sure of that. “That's what this is about!” he accused Castiel.

“What?”

“The girl!”

“No, Dean. It's not,” Castiel defended. “Nora – she's a very nice woman, I'm pretty sure she's not a reaper intent on killing me … and she's asked me out.” Dean wondered if this was the first girl that Castiel had been with since the reaper or if there had been other women. Maybe Castiel was completely straight now? (Dean ignored the irony of this thought.)

“Going on dates – that's something humans do, right?” Castiel continued.

“Yeah,” Dean said, plastering on a smile. “I mean, my dates usually end when I run out of singles, but, uh, yeah. Yeah, that's something that … humans do.”

Dean was saved the trouble of thinking of something to say that didn’t make him sound jealous when the phone rang. It was local law enforcement reporting another dead body which had spontaneously combusted like the last four.

“You comin'?” he asked Castiel after he hung up.

“I wouldn't be much use. I don't have my powers,” Castiel protested.

“So? I've never had powers,” Dean argued. He hadn’t seen Castiel in weeks, after all – weeks which he had spent reminding himself that non-platonic intentions aside, Castiel was still his best friend. Additionally, Castiel was helpful on a hunt even without his powers. Finally, Dean was morbidly curious about how Castiel’s date was going to go. Perhaps it would be terrible. (Dean hoped so.)

“You are a hunter,” Castiel insisted.

“And you're a hunter in training, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. You said I sucked,” Castiel accused.

Dean was pretty sure he had never _actually_ said that Castiel _sucked._ At the time, he had been “confused about his feelings” as Castiel had put it… he had simply gone above and beyond to point out everything that the angel did wrong.

“I didn't say that,” Dean argued. “I said that there was, uh, uh, you know, ‘room for improvement.’ Come on!”

“All right, my shift's over in five minutes, and my date's not until later, so...”

“Attaboy!” Dean said, excited. “I'll go get the car.”

“Not just yet,” Castiel reminded him. “I have to clean the bathroom.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

After looking at the remains of the newest body (which looked more like someone had gone crazy with pink spray-paint), Castiel identified that they were facing a special class of angel called a rit zein.

“They functioned like medics,” Castiel said. “They tended to the wounded. They healed those who could be healed, but for the mortally wounded, those who were past saving, the rit zien's job was to put them down.”

This particular rit zein was far away from Heaven and didn’t seem to care that he was killing moody teenagers and couples in the middle of a divorce, not angels wounded in battle. “He's continuing his heavenly work down here, one suffering human at a time,” said Castiel.

“We’ve got to stop him,” said Dean simply.

“ _You_ have to stop him,” corrected Castiel, looking away.

Dean paused. “You're scared,” he acknowledged gently, surprised.

“It's different now, Dean,” Castiel said softly. “Everything feels different.”

Dean felt a horrible wave of guilt. Perhaps the Castiel Dean had known was really and truly gone. Another item to add to the pile of things that were Dean’s fault, that he could’ve stopped if he’d been stronger, if he’d realized earlier. If he’d only realized earlier that something was wrong after Purgatory. If he’d been less afraid of his feelings and checked in on Castiel more, if he’d searched for him earlier after he became human, if he’d ignored Castiel’s wishes and checked on him after he kicked him out of the bunker.

But now, Castiel was human, and he was scared, and he was dating women.

“You're right,” Dean said. “All right, I'll track down this, uh, Kevorkian wannabe, and I'll put him down.”

“Okay,” Castiel said, sighing.

“You stay safe. Go on that date, all right? Go live a normal life.” Maybe it was for the best. Maybe Castiel wouldn’t have to die like everyone else Dean had ever cared for.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel didn’t have a ride to his date, so Dean drove him. He even gave Castiel dating advice. It went against every bone in his body, but he wanted his friend to be happy, after all.

This was for the best, he attempted to convince himself. Castiel was human now, and had moved on, and had made a life for himself here as a Gas ‘N Sip employee. At least Dean wouldn’t have to see his empty eyes, burned out by the first angel that managed to catch up with him. Dean remembered watching Castiel explode in front of his eyes in Stull Cemetary years ago. At least he would never have to see _that_ again.

While pulling out from in front of Castiel’s date’s house, he was almost hit by an annoying Ford pick-up that had decided to pull in and then back up. It was only later, after a talk with local law enforcement and some research, that he identified the pick-up as belonging to the man now possessed by the rit zein.

By the time Dean arrived back at Castiel’s date’s house, the woman was nowhere to be seen. Castiel was on his knees in front of the rit zein cradling what looked like a broken wrist, fear in his eyes. The rit zein saw Dean coming in, however, and used his angel powers to throw Dean into the corner.

“You say you want to live,” said the rit zein to Castiel. “But you can't see what I see. By choosing a human life, you've already given up. You … chose … death.” The rit zein lifted a hand to Castiel’s forehead.

Dean slid his angel blade across the floor toward Castiel, who grabbed it at the last second and stabbed the rit zein. White light burst out of the angel and he screamed, and Dean ducked to shield his eyes.

When the light was gone, Dean’s ears were assaulted by a horrible noise. It was a baby crying. Sure enough, Dean looked behind him to find a crib containing a baby. He looked at Castiel in confusion. “Where’s your date?”

Castiel looked away awkwardly. “I, um, misunderstood. She wanted me to babysit.”:

_Yes!_

“Dude, that’s bullshit!” exclaimed Dean, though he felt suddenly lighter. It was as though every prayer was answered.

“And, Tanya appears to have a fever,” Castiel continued, walking over to pick up the baby. “I called Nora, but she hasn’t answered… we need to clean this mess up!”

“Dude, that’s no problem!” Dean said. “Give the kid a little Tylenol, it’ll bring the fever right down. Actually, you should probably take some, too. That wrist will take awhile to heal, but I know how to set it. I’ve got some materials in the trunk.”

Castiel looked like he might cry from relief. Dean threw the rit zein’s body in the trunk, and then spent the next half hour attempting to get the stain of angel wings off of Castiel’s date’s floor while Castiel tended to the crying baby. When the girl from the gas station, Nora, arrived back home, the floor was clean and the baby was asleep. Dean stayed out of sight and watched the two of them say good-bye, a smile determinedly stuck on his face.

“Where to?” Dean asked Castiel when he climbed into the Impala.

“The gas station,” Castiel answered.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t really have… um…” Castiel looked uncomfortable.

Dean fixed his friend with a look, guilt piercing him sharply. “Dude. That’s what the credit card was for!”

“I didn’t want to use it except for, um, necessities,” said Castiel. “But I’ve been pulling extra shifts, and next month I should be able to-…”

Dean sighed. “Fine. You’re coming back to my room tonight. I’ll drop you back off at the gas station tomorrow before I hit the road.”

“You really don’t have to-…”

“I insist,” Dean said. “Besides, I have to set your arm, remember?”

Castiel nodded. “It would be nice to sleep on a bed for once,” he said, getting into the Impala. “I never realized how uncomfortable it is for humans to sleep on the ground.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It was only about 8:30 when Castiel and Dean arrived at the hotel. Dean set Castiel’s wrist, and the two of them talked for a long time. Dean updated Castiel on what had been happening at the bunker, and Castiel updated Dean on what had been happening on angel radio, which he was apparently still able to hear. Despite the rit zein’s words that Castiel wanted to live, Castiel seemed hopeless and deeply sad. Dean wanted very much to cheer up his old friend, but had no idea how to go about doing so. All of his attempts to suggest to Castiel that he had a skill set that was still useful were rebuffed by Castiel’s insistence that he was “useless as a human.”

“There are so many new emotions,” Castiel said. “It’s difficult to sort through them all most of the time. I get frustrated by the smallest things now…”

“Speaking of which,” Dean interrupted, trying to seem smooth. He wasn’t hoping for anything, but he was morbidly curious. “I see that you’re… into chicks now.”

“Now that I am human, I seem to be attracted to both sexes with significantly more enthusiasm than before,” Castiel said factually.

“So you’re bisexual,” Dean confirmed.

“I suppose so,” Castiel agreed. “The urges… surprised me at first, but now I’m used to it. It’s a constant annoyance, isn’t it?”

“It is,” said Dean smoothly. 

They were looking at each other, and Dean felt lost in Castiel’s eyes, so much more expressive now that he was human.

“We could-…” Dean said, hesitantly. “Um… if you wanted.” He realized, too late, that it fell far short of everything he wanted to say. He had been far more smooth getting hundreds of women into bed, but now, when it mattered most, he was ridiculously inadequate. 

Then there was the fact that he had _no idea_ how to approach something _more._ He felt rather as though he’d stumbled into something he couldn’t possibly understand.

Castiel considered, but his eyes turned sad. “I can’t just…” He swallowed around a lump in his throat. “I can’t have just… sex with you, Dean. I can’t-…” His voice turned into a choke, and he looked away.

Dean had crossed the room in two strides, something breaking inside of him. It felt like his heart was breaking, but becoming whole at the same time. He put his hand gently on Castiel’s shoulder. “Cas… how could you think _anything_ between us could _ever_ be ‘just sex?’”

Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes, surprise showing in the depths of the blue. There were merely inches left between them. “I thought you hadn’t figured out your feelings?” he whispered.

“I figured them out,” Dean said. He moved toward Castiel, so close he could feel his breath. Castiel would have to make the final leap, however – Dean would not push him into this.

Castiel continued his search of Dean’s eyes, vulnerable and soft. Finally, he closed his eyes and leaned forward. 

When they kissed, it was like coming home. How many nights had he imagined this? Castiel’s lips were dry and chapped, but they were the same temperature as Dean’s now. And he was such a good kisser…

They kissed for a long time, because tonight there was no hurry. Dean reacquainted himself with the shape of Castiel’s jaw, the feel of the back of his head where his hair met his neck. Castiel groaned as Dean moved his shirt aside to kiss his collar bone. He smelled like everything Dean had missed for so long – like lightning, and like all of the best parts of Purgatory.

Dean pushed Castiel backward into the bed and straddled him, pausing to pull off his jacket and then his shirt. Castiel did the same to Dean, and kissed up Dean’s neck, tugging on the bottom of his ear with his teeth. Dean reveled in the feel of Castiel, hard and solid and _finally_.

Dean paused to push some of Castiel’s hair out of his face, gently, and then pulled back far enough to begin work on Castiel’s pants. There was a tangle of clothing, and then they were naked. Dean couldn’t resist taking both of them in hand and pumping. 

It was good, _so_ good, and Dean didn’t want to stop, but he had other plans tonight. He scrambled around quickly to reach into his overnight bag, to a pocket on the front. He quickly removed the condoms and lube that he had kept there for years. It was then that it hit him – it had been almost a year since he’d slept with _anyone_. 

Oddly, this didn’t surprise him.

“Have you done this before?” asked Castiel in his rough voice, blue eyes looking concerned.

“No,” Dean answered, kissing Castiel’s jaw. “Never. But I’ll try to make it good.” He added, “If you want to. We… we don’t have to.” He sat up briefly, taking in Castiel’s face underneath him.

“I’m not worried,” said Castiel, his voice deepening impossibly. “I… I want to.”

Dean smiled and then kissed down Castiel’s neck toward his groin. He was determined to make this good. This was the loss of virginity that Castiel _should_ have had, with Dean… and nobody trying to kill him the following morning.

Dean took Castiel in his mouth, swirling his tongue around Castiel’s cock. Castiel let out a moan and shot off the bed, his fingers tightening in Dean’s hair. Dean sucked lazily, because tonight they had all the time in the world. 

Slowly, he used the lubricant and reached underneath Castiel, massaging his behind as he sucked lazily. Castiel, groaned softly as Dean neared his hole. Finally, when he was sure Castiel was ready, he carefully inserted one finger. Castiel’s breathing had picked up, and he made a half-hearted attempt to reach for Dean, but Dean moved easily out of the way. He could tell when he found the right spot because Castiel groaned and then pitched forward in surprise. “Dean!”

Dean laughed huskily, massaging the same spot again. This was going better than Dean could’ve hoped for. He had researched this, of course, since the last time he and Castiel had been together – imagined it in his head more than a few times. He inserted another finger, kissing Castiel’s thigh. Castiel groaned, “Dean, gaaaahhh, I don’t wanna-…”

Dean grinned, reaching up to kiss Castiel chastely. He pulled away to grab the condom, only to feel Castiel’s hand on his own erection.

Dean groaned in surprise. “Cas! What are you-…”

“You left,” Castiel said simply. He eyed the condom suspiciously. “What’s that?”

“Protection,” Dean said significantly. When Castiel looked at him blankly, he said, “A condom?”

“Oh, that’s what you meant,” commented Castiel. He seemed far more interested in Dean’s cock than the condom, and Dean was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. He rolled the condom onto himself before he lost full control of the situation.

“I don’t like it,” Castiel commented.

“Nobody likes it,” said Dean. “But it protects us from disease.”

“Okay,” said Castiel simply, and Dean had the distinct feeling that he was agreeing more because he wanted to get on with it than because he really understood.

Dean lined himself up and kissed Castiel on the mouth again, massaging his cock with his other hand. “You sure?”

“Dean, _go_!” Castiel said insistently.

Dean pushed in, slowly, and _God_ it felt good. Castiel made a grimace of pain, and Dean stopped. 

“Burns a little,” said Castiel, grabbing Dean’s behind and pushing him forward. “Keep going.”

Dean pulled out and then moved back, slowly, and Castiel’s groan this time was one of pleasure. It took them a bit to find a rhythm and an angle that worked for both of them, but when they did it was utter perfection. It had never, _never_ been like this, with anyone. Dean loved the sounds Castiel made, the feel of his hard cock trapped between them, and the feeling of connection that was so lacking with most of the lovers he’d had outside of Castiel.

He felt his end coming quickly, quicker than he’d expected, and grabbed Castiel’s cock so that they could finish together. He had barely touched it when Castiel clenched and stiffened, groaning out his release, and Dean followed soon after.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

“Dean?” asked Castiel. They were cuddling, and it was different, Dean thought… but a good kind of different. He felt safe, and happy.

“Yeah?”

“What happens tomorrow?”

Dean extracted himself from behind Castiel and nudged him to roll over so that they could look at each other. “I don’t know,” Dean said softly when Castiel was facing him. “Whatever you want to happen, I guess.”

“What does that mean?” Castiel asked.

“Well, there are still angels looking for you,” Dean said, carefully not mentioning the rit zein. “And it’s still not safe for you to come back to the bunker. I _wish_ it were, but…”

Dean tried again. “I don’t know what happens tomorrow, Cas. Just… don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Castiel just looked at him, and Dean understood his blank stare to mean that he didn’t understand the human colloquialism. He sighed. “I don’t know, don’t just completely go radio silent on me for weeks at a time!” _Call me more often_. “I care about you, Cas!” _Like, a lot. I don’t want to leave._ “And I’ll look you up next time I come through,” he added.

Dean knew from the look on Castiel’s face that it wasn’t the answer he had hoped for, but that it was somehow better than the one he had expected. His friend gave a wan smile, and Dean laced Castiel’s fingers with his own. “Okay,” he said.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The next day, Dean dropped Castiel back off at the gas station as planned.

Before he got out of the car, Dean started to give Castiel the apology he should’ve given him the night before, but had, quite honestly, forgotten.

“Listen, Cas … Back at the bunker, I, uh... Sorry I told you to go. I know it's been hard on you, you know, on your own. Well, you're adapting. I'm proud of you.”

“Thank you, Dean.” He sighed. “But there's something Ephraim said. The angels – they need help. Can I really sit this out? Shouldn't I be searching for a way to get them home?”

Dean was about to remind Castiel that he had saved their lives a million times over, even without his powers. Then he remembered the rit zein standing over Castiel with his angel blade. He remembered, again, watching Lucifer explode Castiel into a million atoms, so many years ago.

Yes, it was better if Castiel remained human and didn’t go looking for trouble. At least then he would stay _alive._ “Me and Sam will take care of the angels. You're human now. It's not your problem anymore,” he said.

The two of them smiled at each other, and Dean drove away, trying to ignore how much it hurt.


	8. A Couple of Dumbasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 9, Part 3

Something had changed since the rit zein. 

Before, Castiel had been able to convince himself that he was better staying away from the fighting now that he was human. Now, his eyes had been opened to exactly how bad things were. Since the rit zein, he had done more and more research. He had actively looked into angel kills and possessions, and the more he saw, the more upset he became.

He could no longer use his humanity to rationalize his overwhelming guilt. Sam and Dean were human, after all, and they were hunters. Plus, his own mortality was, frankly, a poor excuse for not trying to fix everything he’d messed up.

Once Castiel had finally made up his mind that he had to do _something_ to help the angel situation, he still wasn’t sure exactly how to do it. Killing himself to go to Heaven to see Metatron was a one-way ticket, and despite the notions of the rit zein he was not suicidal. Praying to the angels to see which one of them would show up wouldn’t be much better.

When he read about a war between angels at a biker joint, however, he leapt at the opportunity to investigate.

The scene of the crime was horrible to behold. There were dead bikers all around the biker joint, with a few church choir girls in between. Both sides had been angels, identifiable by the angle-blade-sized holes in their chests. There was blood everywhere, and the shapes of burnt wings could be seen on the floor between the tables.

Castiel had barely begun to look around when Sam and Dean came in. He was happy to see them. He and Dean had talked off and on since they had had intercourse. He understood that Dean loved him in his own way, but their paths were different. This was the way it had to be, thought Castiel, and though it left a very human ache, he knew that neither of them had the power to change the situation. In his better moments, Castiel acknowledged that the bond forged between them when Castiel had pulled Dean out of hell was still present despite his humanity, and that was comfort enough.

“Cas, what the hell are you doing?” asked Dean gruffly. The look on his face quite clearly said, “We spoke two days ago, and you said nothing about going off on your own and investigating.” 

“Um, I still have that badge you gave me,” Castiel admitted, referring to his FBI badge.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Uh… what the hell are you doing?” This time, Castiel picked up a note of genuine agitation from Dean.

“The murders were all over the news,” Castiel explained. “I thought I might be of help.” 

“Yeah, but Cas, you know this is an _angel_ situation, right?” asked Sam. “You left that night because angels were on your ass.”

Castiel was confused. Did Sam not know that Dean had kicked him out of the bunker?

“Yeah, and you were living the life, you know?” Dean deflected. “Early retirement, working your way up the Gas N’ Sip ladder?” 

Castiel understood now. Dean had hoped Castiel would keep himself out of harm’s way. It was the same reason he hadn’t called the brothers to have their help with this investigation; he should’ve known that now that he was human, this would work both ways.

“If angels are slaughtering one another, I have to do what I can to help,” Castiel explained. “This is a risk we should be willing to take, don’t you think?”

Castiel grinned when the brothers shot each other looks that clearly said, “He has a point.” “Cas is back in town!” he said, feeling better than he had in months.

“Seriously, did you - Did he just say that?” Dean asked Sam.

Castiel ignored them. “These angels, they were butchered,” he said, holding up the folder for the brothers to see now that the bodies had been taken away. “Much more violence than was required.”

“Definitely took more than one or two killers to pull this off,” Sam commented, also looking at the pictures Castiel had provided. 

“Hit squad? Bartholomew’s people?” asked Dean.

“Well, Bartholomew has a faction we know about, but this could be somebody else entirely,” Sam said. “We don’t know.”

“Well, whoever it is, we’ll find them,” said Castiel, flashing everyone grins.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean was both overjoyed to see Cas again, and also disappointed. On the one hand, he was always happy to see Castiel. On the other hand, he had hoped Castiel would stay out of trouble. He had already begun to think of Castiel as someone he could visit from time to time on his way across the US. It was almost… almost like someone to come home to, except that he wasn’t living in Dean’s home.

He should’ve known better. Castiel would never stay out of the fighting when angels were involved, when he felt responsible.

Ezekiel was less than thrilled to see Castiel. “Well?” he asked Dean when Castiel went to get the three of them more beers. “What are you going to do about this?”

“About Cas?” Dean asked, attempting to think of something other than the last time he and Cas had been together. It had been a problem, lately.

“He is a beacon, Dean,” Ezekiel snapped. “Pulling every angel from miles down on our heads.”

“All right, you know what, Zeke?” Dean snapped. “Level with me. What is it that you're so afraid of?”

“I told you,” said Ezekiel with Sam’s voice. “When I chose to answer your prayers and heal Sam, I chose sides. That means I'm not in good standing with certain angels.”

“Okay, well, you know what?” Dean responded angrily. “Cas isn't in good standing with any angel, all right? But here he is, ass on the line, fighting the fight. So tell me, what makes you so special?”

“Here we go,” Castiel said, reappearing with the beers. “Three brewskies.”

“I’m going to get something out of the car,” Ezekiel said pissily, rising suddenly from his seat and marching away.

Castiel cleared his throat. “I, um, I noticed you look... kind of uncomfortable whenever Sam mentions my leaving. Doesn't he know that you told me to leave?”

“Here's the deal,” said Dean. He could be honest with Castiel about as much as possible, he supposed. “When Sam was doing the trials to seal up Hell, it messed him up. Okay? The third one nearly killed him. If I'd let him finish, it would have. He's still messed up, bad.”

“You said the angel, Ezekiel, helped heal him,” Castiel protested.

Dean looked down, avoiding the question. “Look, I’ve got to do anything I can to get him back. Now, if that means that we keep our distance from you for a little while, then... Then I don't have a choice. I don't feel good about it, but I don't have a choice. It's great to have your help, Cas. Okay, but we just can't work together.”

_Nothing can ever just be fucking easy._

Cas nodded, looking sad, and disappeared into the crowd.

“Cas, wait just a-…”

But he was gone.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It had been a few days since Dean had rebuffed Castiel at the bar – an eventful few days. Castiel had been hurt by Dean’s words – hurt enough to take drastic action. It had paid off, however. Now, he had to relay a message to Dean. Sam might be in trouble.

“Dean, I don’t have a lot of time, so listen,” he said into the payphone. He missed his wings. The grace he had stolen gave him his angel powers back, but nothing would bring back his wings. “The leader of the opposition is an angel named Malachi.”

“How do you know that?”

“He had me. I was tortured. But I got away.”

“How?”

Castiel paused. Guilt still pricked at him, even harsher than before. _“Just following your example, Castiel,”_ Malachi had said. “ _How many did you kill in Heaven? And in the Fall?... A host of angels died in the fall. Died doesn’t even begin to describe it. Wings shredded, unspeakable agony at your hands…”_

But now, with a grace, he could make things right again. Now he could finally be helpful. “I did what I had to. I became what they’ve become. A barbarian,” he said finally.

“What are you – Cas, where are you?” Castiel was glad to hear Dean’s concern, even after he had turned him away him the other day. Intellectually, he understood that Dean was trying to protect Sam, but his human emotions had had a difficult time with that. It was one of the reasons he was so relieved to have a grace again, even if it wasn’t his own.

“It’s better I stay away,” Castiel replied. “They’re gonna want me even more now. But I’ll be alright, I… I got my grace back. Well… not mine, per se, but it’ll do.”

“Wait, you’re – you’re back?” Dean asked. “You got your mojo?”

“I’m not sure,” Castiel said honestly, “but I _am_ an angel.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Dean asked.

“If we’re going to war, I need to be ready,” Castiel said.

“Cas-…”

“Dean, there’s more,” Castiel said hurriedly. “Didn’t you say Sam was healed by an angel named Ezekiel?”

“Uh… yeah, why?” Dean asked.

“Ezekiel is dead,” Castiel explained.

“What?” Dean asked. If he hadn’t known Dean’s voice as well as he did, he wouldn’t have recognized the panic behind Dean’s question.

“He died when the angels fell,” Castiel said.

“What?” Dean asked, his panic more obvious this time.

“I just found out,” Castiel added.

There was silence. Finally Dean said, “Cas, I’ve gotta go.”

Castiel didn’t hear from Dean again for two days. The next time Dean called him, he said only, “Cas, come quick – _please!”_

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

When Castiel arrived at the bunker, Dean appeared to be packing. “Dean,” he said upon walking in. The bunker was quiet, and he didn’t see Sam or Kevin.

Dean smiled slightly, though Castiel could already tell that something was deeply wrong. “Cas,” Dean said. “Now, look at you, all suited up and back in the game.”

Castiel smiled sheepishly. “I, um... I came as soon as you called. I wa –…” His eyes lit on the mess on the floor. The floor was covered in debris from a broken lamp, along with strewn papers and books. “Dean, what’s happened?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Dean looked at Castiel as though he wanted to cry. Castiel held himself back in case Sam or Kevin was around, but Dean came toward him anyway and pulled the angel into a tight hug. When he came away, his eyes were shining. 

Slowly, he told Castiel all about his deal with the angel Ezekiel. Now, Ezekiel – though it couldn’t possibly be Ezekiel, who, after all, was dead – had taken full possession of Sam, killed Kevin, taken the angel tablet, and disappeared.

Castiel had an idea. “Do you remember Alfie?” he asked Dean.

“The kid angel? Yeah. Why?”

“Before he died, he told me the demons were able to dig into his mind, access his coding. We might be able to do that here. Might be able to – to bypass the angel and talk directly to Sam.”

Unfortunately, this required assistance from Crowley. 

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

More than a day later, they had tracked down Sam and attached him to a make-shift torture device that was the nearest thing Dean could find on short notice that met Crowley’s specifications. Crowley poked and prodded for hours at the angel inside Sam, who refused to give his name. 

Finally, Dean could watch no longer. “I can’t watch that anymore,” he told Castiel. The angel followed Dean into the bowels of the abandoned building where they had chained up Sam. From there they could still hear the screaming, and even see Crowley, but it was not quite as graphic.

“I understand,” Castiel said. “It’s not Sam, but...” He trailed off.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Dean said. “How are you doing?” He didn’t finish the question. _How are you doing… since we had sex? How are you doing… since you became an angel again? How are you doing… since I made you leave?_ All of the above, he supposed.

Castiel appeared surprised. “You want to talk about me now?” he asked.

Dean looked pained. “I want to talk about anything that's not a demon sticking needles into my brother's brain.” He looked out of a window. “Yeah, humor me, man. How are you doing?”

“Uh... I'm okay,” Castiel said. 

“Good, good,” Dean said, trying to think of anything but his brother’s screams. He was glad Castiel was an angel again. It made him feel as though a small piece of the world was put back to rights, somehow. “That’s uh… So what, you just change the batteries out, power back up, it’s that easy?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Castiel said, “But I didn’t have a choice.” Dean recognized the look in his eyes; haunted. Castiel had done things he regretted to get his angel powers back. Dean understood, and didn’t press. Perhaps his friend wouldn’t have had to suffer if he had made a different choice, himself.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Well, that’s usually how it goes.”

He owed Castiel an apology, and he knew it. He had done the same thing that Castiel had always done that had always made him so angry – refuse to trust his friend. It had turned out the same way it always did when Castiel did it – disastrous.

“Cas,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“Kicking you out of the bunker,” Dean answered. “You know… not telling you about Sam.”

“You thought his life was at stake,” said Castiel.

“Yeah,” Dean said, “I got played.”

Castiel sighed, looking at Dean. “I thought I was saving Heaven. I got played, too.”

“Maybe we’re both a couple of dumbasses,” Dean said, smiling at him weakly.

Castiel smiled back, his smile a bit more wide than Dean’s. “I prefer the word ‘trusting.’ Less dumb. Less ass.”

Suddenly, they heard Crowley yell, “Laverne! Shirley! Get in here!” 

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

In the end, it was Crowley that saved Sam. Dean had made a deal with the King of Hell; his freedom for his help. Castiel watched, in Sam’s head, as Crowley convinced Sam that he was being possessed and together they fought to expel the angel, whose name was actually Gadreel. For all that Gadreel had done, he _had_ healed Sam – Castiel could see that. There was still quite a bit of healing to be done, but Castiel felt confident that he could do the rest without possession, over a period of time. He wished that Sam felt better, but he was glad that they could both (Castiel included) return to the bunker and heal there.

Castiel could tell that Sam was angry with Dean. The group stopped at the side of the road on the way back to the bunker so that Castiel could begin the healing.

“It'll take time to fully heal you,” Castiel told Sam after he had given it his best effort. Any more uncontrolled grace now and Sam would run the risk of exploding. “We'll have to do it in stages.”

Sam nodded in agreement, looking unsteadily at Dean. Dean approached with reservation, and Castiel understood that the two of them were about to argue, here on the side of the road in the rain. He supposed Sam had that right. 

Castiel backed away to a respectful distance. He could still hear the brothers with his angel hearing, but it was far enough away to be appropriate from a human perspective. (Castiel was proud that he now understood these things.)

“Kevin's blood is on my hands, and that ain't ever getting clean,” Dean was protesting in the face of Sam’s anger. “I'll burn for that. I will. But I'll find Gadreel. And I will end that son of a bitch. But I'll do it alone.”

_Dammit_ , thought Castiel. He understood. Dean would go after Gadreel, and run from the necessity of facing his brother. _Castiel’s_ duty was to stay and heal Sam. He supposed that if he were Dean, he’d do the same thing. He _had_ done the same thing.

“Go,” Sam shot back. “I'm not gonna stop you.”

Dean turned back just long enough to shoot Castiel a glance of apology. There would be time for them, later. Then he climbed into the Impala and drove away.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel spent two weeks in the bunker with Sam, over Christmas. Sam didn’t speak with Dean at all, though Castiel and Dean were in contact by text message and a few phone calls. Dean never discussed where he was or what he was doing in detail.

Castiel took great care in healing Sam the rest of the way, and by the new year he had recovered fully from the trials and Gadreel. New Years’ Day came and went. Sam and Castiel drank Scotch and heard the shotguns and fireworks outside suggesting the new year, and Sam fell asleep in the lounge area in front of the tiny television.

Dean called two hours later, just long enough to wish Castiel a new year. He sounded half-asleep and partially drunk.

“Cas?” Sam asked, after Castiel hung up, stirring on the couch.

“Yes Sam?”

“What happened between you and Dean in Purgatory?”

There was a long silence.

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked.

“You and him,” Sam said, tiredly. “Were you guys, like, a thing?”

“It depends on what type of ‘thing’ you’re asking about,” replied Castiel after a pause. He knew Dean didn’t want Sam to know that the two of them had had sex, but he also didn’t want to lie outright.

“Mmm,” Sam said tiredly. He shifted on the couch again, and Castiel thought he had gone back to sleep. Then he said, “You love him though.” It wasn’t a question.

“Very much,” Castiel said, and this answer came easily.

Sam opened his eyes and gave a smile that was less sleepy than Castiel would’ve expected. “I thought so,” he said. “He loves you too, you know?”

Thirty seconds later Sam was snoring.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel left the bunker in early January to search for Metatron. The search was slow-going without his wings, and it was late February before he made any real progress. He remained in touch with both brothers, and learned that they had at least somewhat settled their differences and begun hunting again.

Castiel was forced to kill Bartholomew in self-defense after the later finally captured and confronted him. Afterward, several of Bartholomew’s followers approached Castiel and asked him to lead them in the search for and fight against Metatron, though he refused. Malachi was killed as well, and more and more angels slowly approached Castiel and asked for advice or assistance.

The next time Castiel saw Dean was as a part of a prisoner exchange in mid-April. He had been caught by Metatron, and was being offered to the brothers in exchange for Gadreel. Gadreel was now Metatron’s second in command, and he had been caught by the Winchesters.

Castiel had hoped that the Winchesters would come up with some way to trap Metatron during the prisoner exchange, but this, too, didn’t go as planned. The prisoner exchange was successful, though, in that Castiel was reunited with the brothers, though Metatron and Gadreel escaped.

Castiel could sense immediately that Dean had changed. There was some great evil echoing from Dean’s person… “There's something different about you,” Castiel told him.

Dean patted Castiel on the arm. “I'm fine.” He could feel Dean’s energy, however, and it was writhing with something new, something awful. 

Castiel grabbed Dean’s arm and pushed up his sleeve, searching for the source of the evil energy. There on his arm was the Mark of Cain. 

“What have you done?” Castiel asked Dean, alarmed.

“It's a means to an end,” Dean said.

“Damn it, Dean,” said Castiel. This was bad. It was very bad…

“Look, you find Heaven, you drop a dime. Meantime, I got a knight to kill.” And Dean stomped off back to the Impala.

“Be safe out there,” Sam said awkwardly to Castiel.

“You too,” said Castiel. “Hey Sam?” Sam looked up. “You keep an eye on him,” Castiel finished.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

A few days later, Castiel discovered video chat. He had finally agreed to be a leader in the fight to take back Heaven from Metatron. He and his angel followers had taken over Bartholomew’s old Headquarters, which came complete with quite a bit of technology. 

Dean was his first phone call with his new video chat capabilities. The two of them spent over an hour catching up on the hunt for Metatron and the hunt for Abaddon, and finally Castiel broached the topic he most wanted to discuss. 

“Dean… how did you come to acquire the Mark of Cain?”

Dean sighed, but didn’t hang up. His arm twitched. “Crowley wants to end Abaddon… I want to end Abaddon,” he said, shrugging. “It’s like I said, man. It’s a means to an end.”

“I don’t know much about the Mark,” said Castiel. “None of us do. But it’s… ancient. And a great evil surrounds you.”

Dean frowned, and Castiel could tell that if he pushed any harder his friend would make an excuse to get off the phone. “When I’m done killing Abaddon, I’ll figure out a way to get rid of it.” 

Castiel continued to stare at him, pushing for more while still giving him the opportunity to change the subject. Dean’s arm twitched again, and he rubbed the Mark. “It’s like… it’s my mess. Our mess. We let Abaddon get away, and now we have to finish it. We have to clean up our mess.”

Castiel nodded. “You always tell me I should let you help me with my messes.” Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Castiel added, “But I understand.” 

Dean was silent, thoughtful. Finally, he said, “Dude, do you ever miss Purgatory?”

The question surprised Castiel. “I don’t miss worrying for your life all of the time the way I did there,” he answered. 

“Never mind,” Dean said, visibly clamming up. “Forget I asked.”

“There was a simplicity in Purgatory that I miss,” Castiel admitted. “A camaraderie. Since then it feels like everything we do to clean up our messes just makes a bigger mess.”

Dean took a swig of his beer, and rubbed his arm again. “Do you think the messes will ever end?”

Castiel thought about this. He was dying, he knew this. His borrowed grace was failing, but Dean didn’t need to know that yet. “You’re asking about peace,” he said. “True peace.”

Dean nodded.

“I knew peace once, before the Apocalypse,” Castiel said. “But I’m a being of war.”

“Yeah, so am I, I guess,” said Dean. Then he added, “When Abaddon is a pile of ash, and you guys figure out this Heaven thing, you should come stay at the bunker for awhile. We could do some cases together. You know, milk-run type stuff.” He shrugged, and Castiel had the impression that Dean was trying to look as if his answer was of no consequence, but that it was in fact very important to him.

“I would enjoy that,” said Castiel.


	9. Commander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 9, Part 4

April turned quickly into May, and then June. Dean spoke with Castiel occasionally, but he knew that the angel was busy with the war effort. Castiel reported that it was going well, much better than his war against Raphael had gone. His side seemed to be winning all of the minor skirmishes against Metatron’s side, and they were closing in on Metatron himself, and on a possible location of a secret entrance into Heaven.

Meanwhile, Dean had managed to obtain the First Blade, the weapon that the demon Cain had used to kill his brother, Abel. In tandem with the Mark of Cain, passed on from Cain himself, Dean was nearly unstoppable. Near the end of May, he finally managed to use the First Blade to kill Abaddon.

He excitedly called Castiel to give him the news, but it was two days before Castiel called him back. “Dean, I’m sorry it took me so long to answer your call. And I’m sorry I haven’t been around for your search for Abaddon. It’s been so hectic here…”

“Nah, Cas, no worries,” said Dean, but he felt a flicker of irritation. “We’ll talk more when you have time. Actually, man… Metatron is next on my list of douchebags that need to bite it. I was wondering if you needed any help in the effort?”

“I’d love to have you around, Dean, of course, but… I don’t know how much you’d like it. It’s all… hacking into CCTV cameras, mostly. We’re trying to lure Metatron out into the open, and we’re getting really close-…”

“It’s cool, Cas,” said Dean, though he sounded a bit disappointed. “Just call us when you need us, or when you have a good idea of where Metatron is,” he finished.

“I will, Dean,” Castiel promised, and then he hung up.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

In mid-June, Dean and Sam had just returned home from a long series of hunts when Castiel called asking for help with a situation at Headquarters. Dean ignored one of Sam’s many arguments about not bringing the First Blade, and the two of them set off together.

When they arrived at Castiel’s Headquarters, he introduced them to an angel named Hannah. “Sir, this morning, Josiah wasn't at roll call,” she said.

“Uh, roll call? You hold, uh, roll call?” asked Sam. 

“They like to hear me say their names,” Castiel said, looking slightly embarrassed.

“I know a couple of women like that,” said Dean, and he wondered if he should be jealous of Hannah.

Hannah went on to explain that she suspected that Josiah was a spy for Metatron’s side. Sam sat down at a computer and tracked Josiah’s vessel’s credit cards to a gas station in Colorado.

“And that's how we do things in the pros,” said Dean proudly. He wished Castiel had asked him to come here earlier.

“Commander,” said an angel named Benjamin who had approached out of nowhere. “I have something. This phone's memory chip has a video time-stamped just before the explosion.”

The video was gruesome. In it, an angel ripped open his jacket to reveal an Enochian sigil carved into his chest. He screamed, “I do this for Castiel!” before running a blade through his heart and exploding.

“What the hell was that?” asked Dean, accusatorily.

“I don't know,” said Castiel, and he looked deeply shaken. “I didn't -- I would never ask an angel to sacrifice himself to kill innocents. I'm gonna be sick.”

“Cas, why would an angel blow up a Colonel Scoop's in your name?” asked Sam.

“That's not what he was doing,” said Hannah. “Roll it back. There.” Hannah pointed to a girl sitting in a booth at the ice cream shop. “That was an angel – Esther. She's one of Metatron's.”

Dean was beginning to see why Castiel hadn’t needed him here at Headquarters. He needed someone like Hannah, who knew all of the players and called him “Commander.” In spite of himself, he felt a new wave of jealousy.

“So, this was some kind of hit?” asked Sam.

“I don't know,” said Castiel.

“Stop saying you don't know!” said Dean irritably. His mood had been getting worse every day since he’d taken on the Mark of Cain, and sometimes he felt like he was on a roller coaster that he couldn’t get off of. If he was honest, he had hoped that Castiel might have answers or offer help, but it seemed he was too busy with his Metatron “organization.” 

This was ridiculous. These angels were looking at Castiel as though he were something akin to God, and the last time Castiel had been “God”, it had _not_ ended well.

“You can't think I would allow something like this,” Castiel protested. 

“Cas, I know you try to be a good guy, okay? I do. You try,” Dean clarified. “But what you got here, this is a a freakin' cult.”

“Dean,” Castiel said warningly.

“And the last time you had this kind of juice, you did kill humans and angels, and you did nothing but lie to me and Sam about it the whole damn time!” Dean knew he was making a scene, but he couldn’t help it. He should’ve come earlier, whether Castiel liked it or not. He was long past controlling his anger – actually, he was pretty sure that ability had died with Abaddon. It had taken a lot of power to kill her. If Dean was being honest with himself, he was sure her demise had unlocked something inside of him, something to do with the Mark.

“Can we, uh -- can we take this somewhere else, guys?” asked Sam, looking at Hannah and Benjamin. Both were looking uncomfortable.

Once they were inside Castiel’s office, Sam rounded on Dean. “Will you stow the baggage, Dean? Look, we've got a case. Let's work it.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Twenty minutes later, Castiel and Sam were on the road to Colorado to track Josiah at his last known location. Dean had stayed behind to talk to some of the friends and associates of the angel who had blown himself up in the ice cream shop.

Sam spent the first part of the trip regaling Castiel with the story of Abaddon’s death. _Why hadn’t Dean told him?_ He supposed he _had_ been busy lately…

This was big news. Killing with the First Blade, especially a powerful creature like Abaddon, would bring Dean that much closer to falling prey to the evil magic of the Mark.

“Does Dean seem different to you?” Castiel asked seriously.

“Yeah. Lately, he seems to be...amped up --you know, on edge.”

“Effects of the Mark?” Castiel wanted to know Sam’s opinion.

“What else?” asked Sam.

“He does seem angry. I mean, he's always a little angry, but now it seems like...more,” said Castiel. “I think a part of him actually believed that I ordered those angels to, you know...” It hurt that Dean might think that, after all this time. “Sam, you don't, do you?”

“No, man,” Sam answered. “Cas, listen. You got a weird thing going on back there. Those other angels, the way they stare at you, it's like you're part rock star, part L. Ron.”

“They've put their faith in me,” said Castiel. He hoped that this time, he could be worthy of that faith.

“And maybe that's the problem,” said Sam. “I mean, people have been doing messed up crap in the name of faith -- in the name of God -- since forever.”

“Well...” said Castiel, processing Sam’s words. “I'm not trying to... play God. I'm just trying to get my people home.”

Sam nodded, and they didn’t talk for a few moments. Then Sam said, as though he’d been working up to it, “Cas, all those other angels look at you like… like they worship you. Like they’re in _love_ with you. And… and it can’t be easy for him.”

Castiel began to ask Sam what he meant, but just as he opened his mouth, it clicked. “You think he’s _jealous?”_ asked Castiel incredulously.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” said Sam, smiling, “but Dean doesn’t show emotions like a normal person. Whenever he feels a negative emotion, he just gets angry. And the Mark isn’t helping.”

There was silence for several moments, and then Castiel said, “You’re very intuitive, Sam.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Sam and Castiel tracked Josiah to a warehouse in Pray, Montana, but he had been deceived. 

Josiah was dead – he _had_ been a mole, as Castiel had earlier suspected, and Metatron did not like loose ends.

Disappointed and upset, Castiel rushed back to Missouri with Sam. When Castiel had last spoken to Dean on the phone, the hunter had discovered that a reaper called Tessa, and at least one other reaper called Constantine, were planning suicide bombs like the one at the ice cream parlor. Dean had subdued Tessa, and he was supposed to be working with the other angels to find Constantine, and to find out for certain who they were working for and what their goal was. 

Castiel hoped that Dean and the other angels would give him good news when he and Sam returned to Missouri. Apparently not, however; he received bad news as soon as he walked through the door.

“Castiel, thank God you’re back!” said Benjamin. “The Winchester ape stabbed Tessa with the First Blade.”

_WHAT._ Had Dean really been stupid enough to bring the First Blade to Headquarters?

“Castiel, please proceed to the Room for Captives,” Hannah said. “Dean Winchester killed Tessa, but we have managed to subdue him.”

Sure enough, Dean was handcuffed to a chair in the warded room in which captives were held. There was duct tape over his mouth, and his nose was bleeding. “He put up a fight,” Hannah said in explanation.

“Get out,” Castiel commanded, and she did.

Dean reported that Tessa had impaled herself on the First Blade. Castiel believed him, but the result was still the same. To Castiel’s soldiers, it appeared that his human friend had killed an angel. 

Sam seemed to understand Castiel’s predicament. He began a loud and angry argument about it with Dean when Hannah interrupted them again. “Commander, I'm sorry, but you have a call... From Metatron.”

This wasn’t good. 

Metatron was waiting on video conference in the large War Room. “Castiel,” he taunted. “Bet you’re not happy to see me!”

“Is anyone? Ever?” Dean retorted.

“Dean,” Metatron greeted. “Always with the B-grade, 80’s-action-movie wit.”

“What do you want, Metatron?” Sam asked wearily.

“Just to tell ass-tiel, there, that I'm still alive. His bomber failed.”

“ _My_ bomber?” asked Castiel,

“The crazy guy. Big knife. Kablooey. I'm fine, thanks for asking, but Gadreel is wounded, and Tyrus - R.I.P. His followers are not your biggest fans, by the way. They've all come over to my team.”

_Constantine._ Apparently the other suicide bomber Dean had warned him about had hit his mark while Dean had been messing around with the First Blade. “I didn't send anyone to kill you.”

“Oh, stop lying, Castiel,” Metatron said.

“Who are you to lecture me on lying?” Castiel said gruffly. “Your deception led to the Fall.”

“I did what I had to do,” Metatron responded, leaning forward into the camera. “I have always done what I have to do, for God and for the angels.”

“Sure,” Dean snapped. “You’re Mother Theresa with neck beard.”

Castiel wished Dean would be quiet. He was already in trouble with the other angels, and the best thing he could do would be to keep his comments to himself.

“What I did was neither good nor bad,” Metatron continued. “It was necessary -- a small hardship to make us all stronger, to make us a family again.”

“Yeah, except for the angels you had Gadreel kill,” Sam pointed out.

“Okay, yes,” Metatron said, rolling his eyes. “Maybe I got a little carried away at first, but those days are over. A near-death experience makes you re-evaluate. So, one time only, I'm offering amnesty. Every angel, no matter what their sin, may join me and return to Heaven. I will be their God, and they can be my heavenly host.”

So that was his play. Castiel had thought as much.

“Why would we follow you?” Hannah asked.

“Well, look around,” Metatron said, chuckling. “You've seen Earth. You've had a taste of free will. I’ve got to ask you -- do you like it? I mean, the way you've flocked off to follow Castiel tells me you need to follow someone. It's in your DNA. But Cas -- he's not what you think he is. He sends angels out to die. Have you told them about your stolen grace, Castiel? How it's fading away, and when it burns out, so will you?”

The angels around him began to murmer, and Castiel guiltily looked at the floor. He couldn’t look at Dean, who knew, now, that he was dying.

Castiel knew it was over. He had been so careful… but he was sunk. Metatron had concocted this plan perfectly. 

“So... No, then,” Metatron said, speaking to Castiel’s army. “I'm not the best, but I'm the best you've got. You want to stay with Castiel, fine, but he's playing you, because at the end of the day, the only thing he cares about is himself and the Hardy boys there. You've got a choice to make. Make the right one.”

Then Metatron ended the signal.

“He's lying,” Castiel said, turning to his soldiers. One by one they had turned to face him, all with accusatory glares.

“About the grace?” asked Hannah. 

“It's complicated,” he said, trying to think of something more convincing.

“So he wasn't lying.”

“He was about everything else,” Castiel said desperately. He had been caught off guard, and was losing the thread of the conversation. “He...you believe me, don't you?”

“I want to believe you, but I... we need proof,” Hannah answered.

“Name it.”

Hannah pointed to Dean. “Punish him.”

“What?” said Dean in surprise.

“He murdered Tessa,” Hannah explained. “He broke our rules.”

“Y'all can all go to Hell,” Dean said. He turned to leave.

“Dean,” Castiel said in warning, and Castiel’s guards moved to restrain his friend.

“Hey, wait a sec,” said Sam, but the angels restrained him as well.

“You gave us order, Castiel, and we gave you our trust,” said Hannah. “Don't lose it over one man.” Then she handed the angel blade to Castiel. “This is justice.”

Castiel took the blade and considered his options. Killing Dean could mean the end of the Battle for Metatron. His followers would continue to put their faith in him, and Metatron’s final desperate battle would be lost. They could take the fight to Metatron and take back Heaven. Duty was first, _always…_

But then, there was Dean. There were his green eyes, and the feel of him on top of and inside Castiel, and the nights spent in Purgatory talking. He had rebuilt Dean’s body, rescued his soul, and they were bonded in ways that Castiel knew Dean didn’t even understand.

_I’ve already let him down so many times…_

“No. I can't,“ Castiel whispered, defeated.

There was a beat of silence.

“Goodbye, Castiel,” said Hannah.

One by one they left him there, alone with his thoughts and his grief.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel accompanied the brothers on the drive back to the bunker. Sam wasn’t speaking to Dean, and Castiel wasn’t speaking at all. This was fine with Dean, because he didn’t want to be around Sam, and he didn’t have any idea what to say to Castiel.

He had fucked up everything.

Finally, when they arrived at the bunker, he asked, “So, batteries…” 

“I’m fine,” said Castiel.

“No, you’re not,” Dean said. He was happy Castiel was willing to speak to him at all, even if it was about this horrible news. “How long have you got?”

“Long enough to destroy Metatron, I hope,” said Castiel. “But without an army...”

“Well, hey, you’ve still got us,” said Dean. It was probably a small consolation. He almost wished Castiel had let the angels kill him. It would’ve solved the Metatron problem and the Mark of Cain problem, hypothetically.

But Dean wasn’t suicidal.

“Dean,” Castiel said. “Those bombers -- you don't really think that I --…”

“Cas, you just gave up an entire army for one guy,” Dean said gently. “No, there's no way that you blew those people away.” Dean could never repay him…

Castiel seemed to brighten just slightly. “You really believe we three will be enough?” asked Castiel.

“We always have been,” said Dean, though he wasn’t sure if he believed it.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel understood, now, that Dean had become addicted to the First Blade. It wasn’t long after that that he went completely off the rails. Once Metatron was dealt with, Castiel could figure out a way to cure Dean of the curse before he died; Metatron had to come first, though. 

Unfortunately, Dean’s possession of the First Blade might give them their best chance. Gadreel sought Castiel out and said that he understood, now, that siding with Metatron had been the wrong thing to do. Together, they left to sneak into Heaven, leaving Sam to deal with Dean. They hoped to find and break the angel tablet that Metatron drew his power from, which Gadreel had stolen from Kevin when he had killed him. Meanwhile, Dean and Sam would deal with Metatron, who was currently on Earth doing acts of healing to spread the word that he was the new God. 

It was a difficult battle. Gadreel sacrificed himself to give Castiel an edge. Still, Castiel was able to find the angel tablet, hidden in Metatron’s typewriter, and break it.

Metatron appeared suddenly. “Well played, Castiel. Obviously, you and Gadreel managed to turn a few dead enders against me.”

“Gadreel is dead,” Castiel said fiercely.

“Ah. So Gadreel bites the dust. And the angel tablet -- arguably the most powerful instrument in the history of the universe -- is in pieces, and for what again? Oh, that's right -- to save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of Heaven, but ultimately, it was all about saving one human, right?”

_It’s not that simple._ And yet, when it came down to it, he’d made his choice. 

“Well, guess what?” Metatron snapped. “He's dead, too.”

It felt like the bottom had fallen out of Castiel’s stomach. But there was still hope. Dean had been dead before, after all…

He tried to follow the thread of his conversation with Metatron, who was gloating about manipulating Castiel and the other angels. “They will do nothing because they are frightened little sheep following my crook wherever it leads,” Metatron was saying. “And where I'm taking them, back to our rightful place atop this mountain of human shame and excrement -- when that happens, trust me, they're not gonna care how they got there.”

Metatron cocked his head, considering. “You know why you could never quite pull it together, Castiel? Why you're sitting here with your grace slowly burning away and your reputation long extinguished? No curiosity. You didn't read enough. You never learned how to tell a good story.”

“But you did,” Castiel said triumphantly.

Castiel had expected this. He had known Metatron had some sort of device in his office that he was using to broadcast across angel radio, longer and louder than he could by himself. It hadn’t taken long to find it and turn it on. The other angels had heard _everything…_

Sure enough, the doors to Metatron’s office flew open, and several angels walked in and took Metatron by the arms. Castiel raised an angel blade to kill him… but perhaps Hannah had been right. Perhaps there _had_ been enough death… 

_Dean._


	10. Hellish Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 10, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for brief mentions of rape. This won’t be mentioned for the rest of the fic, don’t worry. Please don't be angry with me.  
> In other news, I fixed a plot flaw – “Why couldn’t Castiel just tear out the borrowed grace and become human, instead of dying?” That never sat well with me. So, I fixed it.

Dean had disappeared. He had died – at least, according to Sam – and then somehow _disappeared._

Sam was convinced it was demon-related, and Castiel was inclined to think the same. Dean had vanished completely, leaving no trail.

July turned into August. Castiel was sicker than ever. He felt like when he was under the influence of Pestilence. His vessel was revolting against the grace, against his essence. He was sleeping again…

Hannah came to him then, asking for help tracking down a couple of stray angels. It ended up being a disaster, but Castiel felt as though Hannah was at least starting to see why humans were so special. The stray angels were not as eager to return to Heaven as Hannah had hoped; there was a fight, and in the process Castiel was injured. He was too weak, now, even to heal himself, though Hannah healed his wound for him.

He had hoped that when he became this weak he could tear out his grace and become human, but he learned to his dismay that this was not an option. According to one of the large books at the bunker, his grace would have needed to be his own, and whole, for the procedure. He had had a chance when Metatron removed his grace, but now that he had tainted himself with the grace of another, he was doomed to die an angel.

In desperation, Castiel ignored the book and tried to remove the borrowed grace anyway, with disastrous results. He passed out on the floor for approximately six hours, after which he was even weaker than he had been before.

Finally, Sam called Castiel in mid-August with news about Dean. “Cas... Dean’s a demon.”

Castiel’s breath seemed stolen from him. “Dean's a demon? How?”

“The Mark,” said Sam. “I-I guess it -- it just messed him up. I don't know.”

“That is a vast understatement,” said Castiel.

He headed to North Dakota to help Sam confront Dean, dragging Hannah along with him.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Being a demon had been like freedom, for Dean.

Freedom from guilt, mostly – the guilt of his feelings for Castiel, the guilt of everything he had done in Hell, and, more recently, the guilt of all of the innocents who had been hurt on their hunts. He could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, however he wanted, and it was ecstasy.

Until Crowley sold him out to Sam, of course.

Now he was tied up and caught in a Devil’s Trap in the bunker’s dungeon, and Sam was performing the healing ritual. 

This was different than curing a “normal” demon, because Dean didn’t acquire his demonic nature the normal way. Rather, the Mark wouldn’t let him die. When Metatron had killed him, the Mark had resurrected him, with the power of a Knight of Hell.

The ritual wasn’t supposed to hurt this bad… Dean felt like his blood was boiling, and he couldn’t stop sweating.

Still, Sam kept on. For the first three injections, Dean goaded Sam about the horrible things he had done in his search for Dean. 

When that didn’t work, he tried a new angle. “I like being a demon, Sam. Do you want to know why?”

“Because you can do whatever you want,” Sam said, as though he was tired of hearing it. He was sweating, too, and Dean could tell that his own shouts of pain were hurting Sam in a very emotional way. He thought back to how upset he had been when Crowley had had to torture Gadreel, in Sam’s body, for information. It was an emotion he was glad to be rid of.

“Exactly!” said Dean roughly. “But even more than that, is the guilt, and the secrets. Me and Cas… we’ve been a thing since Purgatory. Did you know that?”

Sam looked stunned, but Dean couldn’t tell if it was because he hadn’t known or because he had never thought Dean would actually admit it. “God, I was so whiny! I actually gave a shit, but I don’t anymore! I don’t care what you think, and I don’t even care what Cas thinks!”

It was so freeing to finally be rid of this secret, but even more, it was freeing to _not care._ He liked the look on Sam’s face, the disappointed, disgusted look.

“When I was out with Crowley, I had sex with every man, woman, human, and demon that I wanted to! You can tell that to Cas, too, or else I will next time I see him. And for the first time in my life I didn’t have to worry about what my young impressionable kid brother would think, and it was _so awesome_ not to _give a shit about you!”_

Sam blanched at the slight, but Dean continued with a sneer. “Now. Let’s talk about Hell for a minute, since I’m getting things off my chest.” This would be good. _Maybe_ Sam would even give up on him. He wouldn’t want to hear awful things about his older brother. 

_Too bad, I don’t care. This is fun!_

Dean took Sam’s horrified look as a cue to continue. “You had it easy in Hell, little Brother. A couple of archangels and our spoiled kid brother had _nothing_ on Alastair, you know. And Cas wasn’t the first man I’ve been with, but it’s the first time I did it by choice.”

He smiled sinisterly. “And it’s the first time I _gave_ a man the choice.”

Sam recoiled and took a solid, physical step back. _Gotcha._

“ _That_ ,” Dean said with a small smile. “That was the look I’ve been waiting for. I keep telling ya’, if this doesn’t work, you’re gonna have to kill me.”

Sam took a moment to recover himself and then said stoically, “I don’t care what you did in Hell. Alastair forced you. You held on for 30 years. And you love Cas.”

“You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?” Dean sneered. “But if Cas and I were going to have a happy ending, we would’ve had it in Purgatory. It was pure there, you know. Benny and Cas were both better friends to me than you’ve ever been. But I had to get back to my little brother, my little brother needed me.” He shook his head, laughing maniacally. “And it turned out that you hit a dog and met a girl! I should’ve just stayed there.” 

Sam’s only response was to stab him in the back of his neck with another needle.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel arrived at the bunker just in time to stop Dean, who had escaped from the bunker’s dungeon, from killing Sam. This was made possible largely by Crowley, who had killed an angel and stuffed the grace down Castiel’s throat when he was near death. “Since you’re five miles away from the Winchester’s Clubhouse, I can only surmise that you’re headed there,” said Crowley. “And that Dean has become a handful. Having him as a demon has caused me nothing but grief. Fix the problem.”

So Castiel did.

During the hour between the seventh and final injection, Castiel and Sam stood vigil over Dean. He had passed out after the seventh injection, either from the pain or simply from the stress of the curing procedure on his body.

Both man and angel were mostly silent, until Sam finally said, “Dean finally told me about everything.”

Castiel raised his head in confusion. “About…”

“About you two. And Purgatory, and all.”

Castiel’s face remained impassive. “I thought you knew.”

Sam shrugged. “I did, really.”

They were quiet for a while, before Sam started again. “And he told me about… Hell. About everything he did… in Hell.”

Castiel looked at Sam critically. “Does this surprise you?” he asked finally.

Sam met Castiel’s eyes for only a second, then shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m not _surprised_ , exactly. I mean, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. I’d just hoped…” 

“You hoped he’d been spared certain experiences, and spared others, because you were spared them,” Castiel clarified.

Sam nodded, still not meeting Castiel’s eyes.

“Alastair was more creative at torturing than any angel, even Lucifer,” said Castiel. He sighed. “These memories bothered Dean a great deal, at first. But first I was forbidden from removing them, and then I lost the ability, and then…” Castiel shrugged, finally meeting Sam’s eyes. “Don’t judge him for what he did for Alastair. He was stronger than most.”

“I know, Cas,” said Sam.

Another long pause. Finally, Sam said, “I’m glad he has you, Cas.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

After the eighth injection, Dean awakened again. Sam and Castiel were overjoyed to realize that the cure had worked!

Unfortunately, as was typical, Castiel had to leave. He had left Hannah in the car. He was on a mission with her to round up the rogue angels, and teach her to love humanity. He knew she had a lot of sway up in Heaven these days, and it was important to him that she understood human ideals before he died.

Plus, he had a new grace. He had to use this new grace and the extra time he’d been given the best way possible, which was in service of Heaven. 

_Always, duty comes first._

Finally, he needed to use his angelic resources to find a cure for the Mark of Cain. It was as he had told Sam: “One problem is solved, but one still remains. Dean is no longer a demon, that’s true. But the Mark of Cain… that, he still has. And sooner or later, that’s going to be an issue.”

For now, though, Dean was no longer a demon, and Metatron was successfully in jail. And for now, that was enough.


	11. Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 10, Part 2

August crawled into September, then October. Dean had taken a break from hunting because Sam felt he needed to heal from being a demon (or something along those lines), and he quickly began to feel agitated.

He didn’t see Castiel, though they talked on the phone occasionally. Each time he talked to Castiel, the angel mentioned Hannah, another angel with whom he was searching for rogue angels who refused to return to Heaven.

Dean tried not to let his jealousy bother him too much. After all, he had had tons of sex as a demon. It couldn’t have been easy for Castiel to hear how many people – men and women alike – he had had sex with during that time. 

He wished he hadn’t said that to Sam, and he hoped Sam hadn’t said anything to Cas. (He would rather eat his own eyeballs then ask.) Either way, he had a feeling that Castiel had been able to guess. Castiel knew more about him than he knew about himself, including the fact that when he was left to his own devices he definitely tended to be promiscuous. Maybe that was why Castiel had said the thing about the “female in the car.” In the end, Castiel’s involvement with Hannah was probably his fault. 

Dean supposed he could just add it to the pile of things he was guilty about, which had grown exponentially since his time as a demon. The single thing he didn’t regret, surprisingly, was finally admitting to Sam that he had had a “thing” with Castiel. Nothing had changed between the two brothers as a result, and if it weren’t for his fear of emotional confrontation Dean almost wished he had told his brother sooner.

October moved into November, and the brothers began hunting again. One of their first cases back on the job was a drama teacher who had gone missing. The brothers were horrified to discover that children at the school in question had created a musical about Carver Edlund’s Supernatural books, based on _their lives._

Dean was even more horrified to learn that fans of Carver Edlund’s books thought that he and Castiel should be together. They were calling it “Destiel.” How many people had realized this before he had? It was all very meta. 

He didn’t like the idea that his relationship with Castiel was so public. Sam finding out had been bad enough, but the thought of the rest of the world knowing honestly terrified him to the core. Even worse, there was something horribly bittersweet about the girl that played Dean and the girl that played Castiel kissing. Dean wished he hadn’t pushed away the real Castiel. 

“So,” said Sam as the two drove away from the odd little school. “Destiel, huh?”

Dean shrugged as if it was no consequence. “Dude, shut up.”

“Seriously though,” said Sam. “Have you even talked to him lately?”

“He’s with Hannah,” Dean grumbled, determinedly not meeting Sam’s eye.

_I blew it. It’s done. Leave it alone._

“You think they’re like, _together_?” asked Sam. “Because I really think Cas - …”

Dean had reached his limit. He shrugged again. “Every time I talk to him, he tells me about how they’re Heaven’s own Bonnie and Clyde, traveling the world until his grace runs out and she goes back to Heaven to be queen of the nerd angels.”

He looked at Sam pointedly. “Now, if you’re done with this Lifetime movie moment, I’m starving.”

Sam knew better than to protest.  
  


**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

October flew quickly into November and then December. Dean created a dating profile online, but only managed to attract a hooker who was being controlled by a demon.

He and Sam hadn’t managed to find any lead on how to remove the Mark of Cain. Crowley had taken the First Blade, though, and the Mark’s effects weren’t nearly as potent as when he had been a demon.

Dean heard from Castiel shortly before Christmas, for the first time in nearly a month. “I need you to help me find some humans,” he told Dean. “Or Sam, if he’s able.”

“Sure, Cas,” Dean said. “But I thought you were on a mission to bring the rogue angels back to Heaven?”

“That mission has been completed,” Castiel’s rough voice responded. “Only a few angels still remain on Earth, and those angels are harmless and have promised not to harm humans.”

“Cool,” said Dean. “Awesome. What about… how’s Hannah?”

“She returned to Heaven,” Castiel said. “She felt guilty for continuing to remain in her vessel. The vessel, Caroline, had a life of her own, and Hannah allowed her to return to that life.”

_Huh._ “I’m sorry,” said Dean, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. He felt his heart skip a beat in hope.

“It was for the best, perhaps,” Castiel said. “She was learning about humanity, and how important it is to protect them. But, in the process, I believe she was developing feelings for me. She kissed me, and I was unsure how to respond.”

_Kissed… they kissed! They only… kissed?_

“Oh,” Dean said. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with relief and embarrassment. Apparently, Sam had been right – they _weren’t_ a couple. Dean immediately felt like an idiot for his jealousy over the past nearly four months.

Dean ran through several possible responses to Castiel’s news in his head and immediately discarded all of them. 

Finally, Castiel said, “I need you to look up Amelia and Claire Novak.”

“Your vessel’s family?” Dean asked, caught off guard and derailed, for the first time in the entire conversation, from his thoughts about Hannah.

“Hannah got me thinking about my vessel,” Castiel explained. “I was unable to find either of them using a basic internet search. I’m going to go to Heaven to speak with Jimmy. I was hoping that when I get back, you or Sam will have more information on where I should go next.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, still feeling whiplash. “No problem, man.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The situation with Amelia and Claire Novak was worse than Dean or Castiel had hoped. Amelia was nowhere to be found, and an internet search and some hacking showed that Claire had spent time in a group home over the past year or so.

Castiel had called the Winchesters to help with the situation after he broke Claire out of the group home and she ran away from him. With Sam and Dean’s help, Castiel tracked Claire to the home of a guy named Randy who had conned her into stealing and scavenging for him. The three of them arrived in search of her just as Randy attempted to trade Claire to a loan shark to pay a debt.

Dean followed Sam and Castiel out to the car with Claire, covering them from the rear as the group of loan sharks made moves towards them. “Don’t be as dumb as you look,” he warned. 

“Hey!” yelled a voice from behind Dean, and then he felt a blunt object, a beer bottle, smash on his head. He could feel the blood running down his face.

He felt the anger… it felt like when he was a demon, and he had to kill. His heart seemed to beat in his ears, and he saw red.

“You guys… don’t want to do this,” he warned, but the group of loan sharks circled closer.

He remembered the Blade… Crowley…

_Death._

_It’ll feel so good…_

Dean moved without thinking.

When he regained control of himself once again, he was kneeling, covered in blood, and all of the loan sharks were dead.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

When they returned to the bunker, Dean bolted toward the bathroom to shower, and Castiel attempted to get Claire settled. She had been understandably shaken up by Dean’s actions, and had spent most of the ride back to the bunker watching Dean and Castiel wearily.

“You can stay in this room,” Castiel told her when they arrived at the bunker. “It’s the, um… nicest, I believe. It’s important that you don’t touch anything in the archival library, because it could hurt you. But, everything in the main rooms should be safe. Feel free to eat if you want to. Also, if you want food or anything else, just let me know. I’m down the hallway.”

Claire surveyed the room wearily. “Am I a prisoner here then?” she snapped.

_Are all teenagers this difficult?_ Perhaps this was Castiel’s fault, because of Jimmy…

“Of course not!” Castiel said. “You may leave at will. However, I do hope you’ll stay. It’s safe here, and there is food.”

“Right,” Claire snapped, but she was genuine when she added softly, “Thanks, Castiel.” Then she shut the door in his face.

Castiel decided to go check on Dean. Dean was sitting on the bed listening to headphones, but he took them off when he saw Castiel. He looked weary, as though he had run 1,000 miles in a day.

“Are you feeling better?” Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged, eyeing the Mark on his arm. “Cas,” he said, looking scared. “I… I don’t know how long I’m still going to be _me_. If I can lose it like that…”

Castiel nodded. “I didn’t know it had progressed this far. I would’ve been here sooner-…”

“Nah, man, you were doing your thing with Hannah and the angels.” Dean looked away.

_I should’ve been there._

“But I should have-…”

“Cas… how long do you have?”

Castiel looked at Dean, surprised. He had almost hoped that Dean had forgotten that his time was running out. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Not… not more than a year before this grace burns out.” 

Dean looked stunned, and Castiel added quickly, “Hopefully enough time to find you a solution.”

Dean beckoned Castiel over to sit with him on the bed, which Castiel did carefully. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean looked suddenly as though something was stuck in his throat. Finally he said, “Stay with me, Cas.”

“Here? Tonight?” Castiel asked, surprised. It was the first time Dean had ever requested that he stay overnight. In fact, he distinctly remembered Dean forbidding the angel from watching him while he slept.

“For as long as you like,” Dean said. “There are some Enochian texts I was hoping you’d look through. And… you could keep me honest, you know? You and Sammy. After today…”

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said, reaching his hand out to put it on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean looked at Castiel’s hand and made no move to dislodge it. He was smiling nonchalantly, but vulnerability shown in his eyes and Castiel was sure that the smile was an act. When he opened his mouth to speak, Castiel could tell that he was choosing his words carefully. “And… also… yes. Here, tonight,” Dean said, his voice lowering slightly.

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel agreed, moving slightly forward.

Dean moved forward on the bed until their lips brushed, feather-light. He moved back just a little and looked at Castiel, clearly a request for permission.

Castiel nodded, moving closer. Dean’s hand, still unsure, traced Castiel’s stubbled chin. Electric shot down Castiel’s spine. Castiel reached up tentatively and massaged Dean’s back with his free hand, letting a tiny amount of grace flow through to heal Dean’s minor aches and pains.

Dean sagged against him, seeming to melt. “’Don’t hafta do that,” he groaned huskily.

“’Want to,” Castiel answered. His voice had gone lower, softer, and he tried to remember why it had been so long since he and Dean had done this. This was _bliss…_

Castiel mouthed at Dean’s neck, inhaling Dean’s smell of apple pie and polish and tasting something distinctly aftershave and _Dean_. Dean let out a soft groan and tugged on Castiel’s suit jacket lightly. Castiel pulled backward long enough to tug it off, while Dean did the same to his own long-sleeved-shirt. 

Once these first layers were shed, their mouths came together again, breaching the last few inches to tangle languidly. Dean began to slowly unbutton Castiel’s dress shirt. His kisses were slow but intense, as though a predator moved just under the surface ready to strike.

Dean began to pepper kisses along Castiel’s stubble, tugging on his shirt as he did so. Castiel arched upward to give Dean better access to his neck, and Dean stopped just long enough to pull the offending article of clothing over Castiel’s head and toss it somewhere where he might (or might not) find it later. Castiel mimicked Dean’s actions and pulled his shirt off, spreading his fingers across Dean’s bare torso when it was revealed.

When they were both finally shirtless, Dean leaned over Castiel on the bed, connecting them from head to groin, and they both sighed with the contact of skin on skin.

“’Wanted this for a really long time,” said Dean. “I’m so sorry, Cas.”

Castiel began to say, “Me too,” but it was cut off with a growl because Dean had just thrusted into him, sending electricity once again up his spine. “Dean!” he exclaimed.

There were two more thrusts, each of them brief but overwhelming, before Dean grumbled, “Cas… naked… now.” Dean began work on Castiel’s belt and Castiel mimicked his movements, both stepping out of their pants awkwardly. Castiel had briefly considered magicking both sets of pants away, but ultimately decided that for now he preferred this. There was a certain charm and ritual to it, like a child unwrapping a gift at Christmas.

The two of them spent awhile kissing while blissfully naked, thrusting against each other slowly. Their cocks brushed occasionally and sent ripples of pleasure down Castiel’s spine, but Dean seemed in no hurry to direct things in any particular way, and Castiel followed suit.

_This is everything. This is right._ He would have this, before he passed on. He would save Dean, and he would die in the process. _But first, I will have this._

Finally, Dean said, almost shyly, “Do you wanna…”

“ _Yes_ ,” said Castiel emphatically.

Dean let go of Castiel reached toward his night stand, grabbing the lube. 

“Where are you going?” Castiel asked, his body leaning back toward Dean’s without him meaning to.

“Lube and condoms,” Dean said, looking confused. “I thought you-…”

Castiel pointed at himself. “Angel,” he reminded Dean, grabbing his hand and pulling him back on top of him. Their erections caught against each other, and Castiel groaned.

“So we don’t need-…”

“No. I’m already… prepared, as you would say,” Castiel answered. “And I can’t contract human diseases, nor can I give them to you.”

“Oh,” said Dean, reaching between them. Castiel parted his legs obediently. Dean licked his finger, then bowed his head in concentration as he put the finger slowly into where Castiel most wanted it. 

“Told you,” said Castiel as Dean nodded with satisfaction. Dean crooked the finger, and Castiel arched off the bed, electricity shooting up his spine.

“Cocky,” Dean said, smirking, and he pulled his finger out. Castiel raised his legs to help with the angle. “Are you sure?” asked Dean, lining himself up and leaning down to kiss Castiel.

“Yes, Dean!” Castiel exclaimed.

Dean eased in slowly. It was a tight fit – perhaps lube would be helpful after all in the future, Castiel realized. Dean seemed to have the same thought. He pulled almost all the way out and grabbed the abandoned lube. When his cock went back inside, it felt less dry.

Finally Dean bottomed out, filling Castiel to the hilt. Both of them groaned, and Dean gave Castiel time to adjust. Dean then began a slow thrust, the fingers of his hand tightening over Castiel’s. It was…

_Awesome. Amazing._

But… not enough. The angle could be better.

“Gonna try something,” Castiel groaned, and that was the only warning he gave Dean before he flipped them. Dean managed to stay inside, but only barely, and yet the new position was _so_ much better.

Dean’s look of surprise turned into one of bliss. “God yes!” he exclaimed, his eyes catching Castiel’s blue ones. Castiel ignored Dean’s words, but allowed himself a slight smile.

It was easier this way, with Castiel using his legs to work himself on Dean’s cock the way he wanted. Dean nailed his prostate each time. Dean had been correct – there was an art form to this, perhaps.

“Cas, I’m-…” Dean started, and Castiel felt Dean’s hands on his cock. He almost lost his rhythm, but managed to regain it just as he felt Dean seize up beneath him. “Cas!”

His name on Dean’s lips sent him over the edge as well, and he felt himself spill over Dean’s stomach just as Dean throbbed within him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the original timeline I had planned for this story before I wrote it, this was when I had planned that Dean and Cas would get together for the first time. All of the friends with benefits stuff before this sort of wrote itself. Either way, I feel like this was the most logical time frame, mostly because there wasn’t really much of an opportunity before this, excluding Purgatory of course.


	12. Lies to a Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 10, Part 3

Dean awakened the next day feeling more relaxed and happier than he had in some time… until he remembered the slaughter that had occurred the previous day. This made him even angrier, somehow, that this awful Mark would taint what should’ve been a joyous occasion. 

“Guys, this thing’s gotta go,” he told Sam and Castiel when he found them in the kitchen. He looked down at the Mark on his arm.

“That won’t be easy,” said Castiel.

“Well, then burn it off!” Dean snapped. “Cut it off.”

“It is more than just a physical thing,” Castiel advised. “It will take a very powerful force to remove the effect.”

“Dean, we’ve been through all the lore,” Sam said reasonably. “There’s nothing.”

“This reaches back to the time of creation,” said Castiel. “It may pre-date the lore. If we had the demon tablet, maybe.”

“But you said it was missing,” said Sam.

“It is,” said Castiel, looking reluctant. Finally, he added, “There may be another way.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

A week went by. Claire had left, insisting that she couldn’t stay with the angel who was, in part, responsible for the death of her father. She had promised to keep in touch, however.

Despite Claire and even the Mark, it had been one of the best weeks of Castiel’s long life. 

Dean rarely let on that things had changed between himself and Castiel, but there were signs, Castiel noticed. A soft smile here, a casual brush of the shoulder there. There were times where they sat too close to each other to be just friends. It wasn’t the obsessive, overly careful, “I need to be attached to you every second of the day” sort of situation that Castiel had seen in movies and on couples newly in love. It was more a casual lack of being careful, like a couple who has been together for some time and is completely comfortable around one another.

Each night, Dean would head to his room alone, and Castiel would come by to check on him. Each night, Dean would invite him to stay. Twice, they ended up having sex in Dean’s room in the middle of the day, just because.

Sam caught Castiel’s eye a few times during the first few days after the massacre of the loan sharks, silently acknowledging how close Dean and Castiel were sitting, or when they had just completed one of the long periods of wordless communication through staring that had always been so common between them. Finally, on the fifth day after the massacre, Sam caught both of them coming out of Dean’s room. Castiel looked at Dean to see how he would handle the situation, but Dean simply shrugged, grinned at his brother, and continued on down the hallway.

And that, apparently, was that.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean, Sam, and Castiel searched though all of the books in the bunker and everywhere else they thought might be helpful, but found no information on how to remove the Mark of Cain. Even the Enochian passages Sam had found in an old book turned out to be unhelpful, and in fact made no mention of the Mark. Christmas and then New Year’s passed steadily. Both were pleasant, despite the Mark looming over the proceedings. 

Finally, in the last week of January, Castiel began a conversation that Dean knew, early on, was not going to be a pleasant one.

“Dean, I need to leave the bunker for awhile,” Castiel said. It was a Tuesday evening, and despite the agitation caused by the Mark, Dean had actually been having a decent day. Castiel had caught him in his bedroom around noon, and they’d had sex for over an hour. He had, of course, failed to find any useful literature on the Mark, but had taken a break to wash and wax Baby and to clean his guns.

“Okay,” he said, attempting to act as though he didn’t care one way or the other.

He knew immediately that Castiel wasn’t fooled. “I’d like to stay, actually,” said Castiel. “But I’ve got a lead on Cain.”

“Father-of-demons Cain?” asked Dean in surprise. “That Cain?”

“Yes,” said Castiel. “If anyone will know about the Mark and how to remove it, it will be him.”

“Awesome!” said Dean. “I’ll go with you! I can be ready in twenty.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, and Dean could tell he was telling the truth. “My contact is an angel named Benjamin, in Maine. He has information which he has agreed to give me. But…”

Castiel shifted, looking uncomfortable. “He’s not exactly a fan of you. He specifically requested that I not bring the man bearing the Mark.”

Dean felt his face redden. “Fine,” he said, annoyed but resolute.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said, and he looked apologetic. “But we need any help we can get. I can’t turn down a good lead because he doesn’t like you.”

“I know,” Dean said grumbled, irritated but resolute. “You’ll call when you have news, yeah?”

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said, reaching out and squeezing his hand.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel and the angel Benjamin worked together for three solid weeks in search of Cain, and Castiel was incredibly thankful for his assistance. Just as he remembered, Benjamin was efficient, detail-oriented, patient, and kind when working with others, though he typically preferred to work alone.

January turned into February. Castiel talked to Dean on the phone every couple of days, and Sam at least once a week. He missed Dean, but his time was running out and he was determined to find a cure for the Mark before his grace ran out this time. He knew the bond he shared with Dean was helping keep the Mark at bay, but even it wouldn’t last much longer. 

A small part of Castiel also worried that Dean would become tired and bored with him if he stayed too long at the bunker, and he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. And so, the search for Cain continued.

Finally, near the end of February, Castiel found him. A demon now, he had clearly gone mental. He had decided that all of his descendants – nearly 1/10 of the world – were tainted with his lineage, and had resolved to kill them all.

Castiel returned to the bunker, and the three of them made plans to kill Cain. They would need the First Blade, which was the only weapon that could kill the old demon. And, of course, it would need to be wielded by Dean, who still bore the Mark of Cain.

There was a price, however. Like killing Abaddon, killing a demon as strong as Cain would only enhance the evil magic of the Mark on Dean’s arm.

“Dean,” Sam said solemnly as they made plans to confront Cain, “Wielding the Blade against Cain himself... win or lose, you may never come back from that fight.”

“I know,” said Dean solemnly.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Having the First Blade in his hand again felt almost like being a demon: free. _Powerful._

When Cain was dead, giving the First Blade to Cas for safe-keeping took far more effort than Dean let on. He pretended like it was fine, but he knew Sam, and probably Cas as well, weren’t fooled. He pretended he didn’t hear them talking about him in hushed tones. 

Dean put on his headset and began to listen to his normal selection of 80’s music. He _felt_ like himself… the Blade was sated, for once, after Cain, and so for the moment he felt normal. He knew the tremors would begin again in a few days, the constant urge to kill, kill, _kill_ …

How long would he be able to stay _him_? A few more years? Months? _Weeks?_ Even before Cain’s death he had been agitated constantly, biting Sam’s and Castiel’s head off over every little thing. Really, it was a wonder Castiel had stuck around so long before he had gone to find Cain. It was a wonder he had come back again, at least for the time being.

He wished they had more time… time to explore a relationship, if that’s what this was. Time to find the words to tell Castiel everything he meant to Dean, over and over (or at least once). Time to hunt with him, for real, and not push him away like he pushed everyone else away.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Despite Dean’s claim that he was going to “sleep for four days,” Dean was far from asleep when Castiel checked on him in his bedroom that night. The door was left open a crack, which Castiel understood by now was a cue that Dean was okay with being disturbed. He lay on his back on his bed, eyes closed tight, feet crossed, 80’s music blaring loudly from his headphones.

Dean opened his eyes when Castiel walked in the room as though he could somehow sense the angel’s presence. The lines in his face seemed to melt away somewhat, and he gave a soft smile. “Cas,” he said pleasantly, and motioned with his finger for Cas to sit next to him on the bed. “Shut the door, man.”

Castiel shut the door and joined Dean on the bed. Dean shuffled around to awkwardly put his head in the angel’s lap. “’Missed you,” he whispered. After the past month and considering the effects of the Mark, Castiel was relieved to realize that he had been invited back to Dean’s room as though no time had passed. He had been more than a little worried that Dean might have changed his mind about whatever relationship they may or may not be in, which (of course) they had yet to properly label. Castiel had resolved himself long ago to following Dean’s lead, and was relieved to find himself, for once, on semi-stable ground.

Castiel situated himself on the bed, Dean’s head still awkwardly lying on his lap. He heard a soft sigh, and realized that Dean had drifted off to sleep, his face for once peaceful.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

February moved into March, and the weather turned warmer. 

Dean bought a bigger bed to put in his room. 

“What was wrong with your old bed?” asked Castiel.

“Well, these days you hang around and watch me sleep,” Dean pointed out. “Now there’s room for two of us.”

_Oh._

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel accompanied the brothers on a few hunts, and Sam always politely opted for a separate room. Dean was of course happy that Sam was giving the two of them an opportunity to have “alone time”, and even happier that he didn’t constantly tease Dean about it. He had a strong suspicion, however, that Sam was also using the time away from Dean to do more research about the Mark.

Dean, in contrast, had given up looking for a cure. He wanted to spend the time he had left with Cas and Sam, saving people and hunting things. He wanted to drink, and eat bacon cheeseburgers, and have sex, and _live_ , the best he could. He and Cas didn’t talk about the grimness of their futures, and for that he was grateful.

In mid-March, Castiel once more announced that he needed to visit some angelic contacts. He followed this news up with, “But I’ll probably head back after that,” which relieved Dean far more than he would ever express.

During Castiel’s absence, Dean and Sam met up with their computer-hacking hunter friend Charlie, who had managed to track down a very scary spell-book called the Book of the Damned. The Book of the Damned was created out of the skin of an ancient witch, and was completely in code. If they managed to decode it, it had a counter-spell to the Mark of Cain, which Crowley had told Dean was a curse. 

Dean knew immediately that this was a bad idea. Magic like the spells in the Book of the Damned always came with a price. Also, he could sense the evil coming from the book. Not to mention the fact that a very evil family called the Stynes were after the Book to use it for their purposes. At his insistence, Sam burned the Book, and Dean felt only relief.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel hated hiding things from Dean, but he knew Dean had given up looking for a cure for the Mark. _He_ hadn’t given up, and neither had Sam. He told Dean that he had to leave the bunker to speak with some of his angel contacts in Heaven, which was halfway true. Really, he met up with Sam (who had given Dean a story about going to see a movie a few towns over) and together they attempted to confront Metatron. 

Unfortunately, the angels refused to allow Metatron to leave his cell. “We both know the only way Metatron helps you is if he's free,” said Hannah. “And I can't let the scribe out of his cell. Not again. He's too dangerous.”

“We won't-…” began Castiel.

“Yes, you will,” said Hannah. “Because you're desperate.”

She was right, but that didn’t stop Castiel from being angry with his old friend.

In the end, Castiel had to break Metatron out of Heaven.

“Miss me?” asked Metatron when he and Castiel emerged met up with Sam. “Oh, smell that? That smells like freedom. Well, let's go. I call shotgun!”

“You don't get to make demands, Metatron,” said Castiel. “You're not in charge here.”

“Oh, I'm afraid I am,” said Metatron. “I know about the Mark. I have your Grace. I make the rules. It's called leverage, boys. Learn it, live it, love it.”

Castiel looked at Sam, who nodded. Castiel pulled out his angel blade and sliced Metatron’s throat open. A white light came out of Metatron into a little glass jar. Castiel healed Metatron’s throat, and then Sam shot him in the leg.

“Ow!” screamed Metatron. “OW!” 

“We have your grace, Metatron,” said Castiel. “You're mortal now. So you will answer our questions, or Sam will, um . . . What's the phrase? Blow your frickin brains out. It's called leverage, Metatron.” 

“Learn it, live it, love it,” said Sam. 

Unfortunately, they learned quickly that Metatron didn’t have any knowledge of the Mark of Cain, as he’d previously claimed.

“He's telling the truth,” said Castiel. “Shoot him.” 

Sam aimed the gun at Metatron's head. “No, no!” Metatron screamed at Castiel. “No! Your Grace! I wasn't lying about that. There's still some left. I'll take you to it.”

Sam looked at Castiel. “It's your call, Cas,” he said.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

As an angel, Castiel didn’t feel things the way that humans did. The feelings of everyday life as a human were muted. Eating, sleeping, digestion, and other bodily functions were not necessary, and he had lived too long and was too powerful for the minor things to matter. He felt his dedication to whatever mission he happened to be on at the time, his love (and longing) for Dean, and his guilt for his past transgressions… but that was usually it.

Over the next two weeks with Metatron, however, he began to feel the very human feeling of annoyance quite strongly. Metatron was reveling in his new human life – the taste of waffles, the nuances of emotions, even the process of digestion. Castiel knew Metatron was dragging out the process of leading him to his grace as much as possible, and his tolerance was waning quickly.

Finally, after Castiel’s threats and coercions slowly became even more severe, Metatron led him to a library. Castiel could _feel_ his grace – Metatron _hadn’t_ used it all! Even here, however, Metatron showed his true craftiness. He had hidden the demon tablet in the same library as Castiel’s grace. He waited until the first moment in two weeks that Castiel wasn’t watching him closely, then used an angel sigil to weaken Castiel.

Castiel still found his grace – mercifully, at the last possible moment – but Metatron ultimately made off with the demon tablet.

He had thought that having his grace back would be odd, after not having it for over a year. It fit like a glove, however, and he felt whole again somehow. 

_At last._

He was weak, though. He no longer was limited by a failing grace, and was once again restored to Seraphim level, but he was weak. The grace Metatron had kept was but a tiny amount of his true power, and it would take days to replenish. There was no point going after Metatron now. 

Instead, he returned to the bunker. He missed Dean, and felt he had been away too long during this crucial time.

“So,” Dean said when he returned from grocery shopping to find Castiel at the bunker. “You’re back? One hundred percent? How’d that happen?”

Sam caught Castiel’s eye and gave him a warning look. 

_Don’t tell him about Metatron._ He understood.

“It was Hannah,” he said finally. “She managed to get the location of the remainder of my grace out of Metatron.”

Dean shrugged. “Awesome!” he said. “I told you we were due for a win!” he said to Sam.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

That night was one of the best nights of Castiel’s long life. He finally met Charlie, the computer hacker friend of the Winchester brothers who was also a hunter. The four of them had an excellent meal of pizza, even though Castiel couldn’t enjoy the human food.

Later, he checked on Dean in his bedroom as was their pattern. Once the door closed behind Castiel, Dean shoved him onto the bed and climbed on top of him. “I missed you, man,” Dean said between kisses. 

Castiel used the first opportunity to flip Dean over and grind hungrily against him. “I missed you too.”

“I’m glad you got your grace back,” said Dean huskily. “I can’t lose you, man.”

Castiel lost himself in the sensations of Dean’s body flush against his. After all, the story of how he got his grace back wasn’t even the biggest lie he’d told a Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone else notice that Dean moved from a single bed to a double bed around this time? Just me? I double-checked. Episode 10.12 definitely featured a twin-sized, and 10.19 definitely featured a full.


	13. Deals Born of Desperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 10, Part 4

The cold of winter gave way to the rain of spring. Castiel spent quite a bit of time at the bunker, though neither he nor Dean tended to stay there for more than a few days on end; both were too prone to moving around.

Castiel drove all over the country searching for books and old Enochian texts about the Mark. He met a few angels and even more demons, but to no avail. 

By June, the change that the Mark of Cain had wrought on Dean’s body and soul was now visible, at least to an angel. He was significantly stronger, faster, and meaner. His soul was twisting, demon-like, an undulating mass constricting an otherwise still somehow mostly pure light.

“Have you found anything?” Sam asked Castiel on the phone one evening. “About the Mark?”

Castiel sighed. He had managed to unearth a long tome about demons written in Enochian by Michael, which turned out to be useless. There were several mentions of Cain, and even the Mark of Cain, but nothing on either the origins of the Mark or removing it. “You’d know if I had, Sam.”

Sam was silent for a second. “I found… something.”

“What?” Castiel said in surprise.

“Well… Cas, look. You’d do anything to save Dean, right?”

_Anything._

“Well… _nearly_ anything, yes,” Castiel answered. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Look… I didn’t _exactly_ burn the Book of the Damned.”

“ _What?”_ Castiel asked him. 

_Typical Winchester._

“Just hear me out,” said Sam.

“I’m listening,” said Castiel stoically.

“We know the book has a spell that will get rid of the Mark. It’s a long shot, honestly. I’ve got the witch Rowena -…”

“A witch?” asked Castiel, rolling his eyes.

“She’s chained up,” answered Sam.

“Yeah,” said Castiel doubtfully. “Okay.”

“Look, Rowena knows the languages. All she has to do is decode the Book, and then we can get rid of the Mark.”

“ _I've made deals born of desperation, and they always end in blood and tears – always.”_ The words came, unbidden, to Castiel’s mind. “I don’t like, this, Sam,” he said.

“Look, Cas, worst case scenario, we’ll find out what the price is to get rid of the Mark, and it’ll be a price we won’t be willing to pay. But otherwise… Dean is still counting on us to take him out if he can’t control the Mark. And he _can’t_ control the Mark, you must see that.”

“Yes, I see it,” said Castiel darkly. He sat for awhile, thinking. Finally, he said, “Fine. I’m in. At least until we find out about the price.”

“Great,” said Sam. “Meet me tomorrow afternoon.” Sam gave the address, and then hung up the phone.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean knew he didn’t have long before the Mark won him over. He wasn’t okay with it, not by a long shot… he just didn’t know what to do about it. The best thing to do, he rationalized, would be to minimize the damage, to stay far away from Sam and Cas when the Mark finally took control. If they didn’t manage to kill him first, which he truly hoped they would.

In typical Dean fashion, he tried not to think about it. He had other things to focus on, anyway. Sam was hiding things from him – fine, he had his right. It wouldn’t be the first time, and, truthfully, it was probably karma, after Gadreel.

Cas seemed distant as well. Dean thought things were going good between them, but as June turned into July, Castiel’s interactions with Dean became somehow more evasive, more closeted. 

It wasn’t anything Dean could define exactly. Castiel didn’t spend as much time at the bunker – not a big deal, Dean rationalized. Since Castiel had officially moved into the bunker in December, they’d both gone for hunts off and on by themselves. Castiel especially never stayed long, as though he didn’t want to overwhelm Dean with his presence – but it had always been like that.

Castiel didn’t talk to him on the phone as much – that wasn’t a big deal, either. They’d gone a day or two without talking before since they’d sort-of-kind-of gotten together in December. Dean would’ve been able to convince himself that the Mark was making him paranoid, but his instincts said otherwise.

Then there was the odd conversation in mid-July. Dean had wandered into the library where he had seen Sam’s phone, vibrating but abandoned. The caller was identified as Castiel, so Dean picked it up. It had been two days since he’d heard from Castiel, and he was kind of excited, actually.

“Cas?”

“Sam,” Castiel began.

“No, it's Dean. What's up?”

“Nothing,” said Castiel, suddenly awkward. “I'm just, uh . . . Just staying in touch. Like I do.”

“Something on your mind?” Dean asked. It would’ve been laughable if he wasn’t so suspicious.

“No,” said Castiel. “This call is pointless. My ride's here.” And he hung up.

_That was weird._

Sam came into the room a couple of minutes later.

“Hey,” Dean said. “Have you talked to Cas recently?”

“No,” said Sam, seeming surprised. “Um, not for a while. Why?”

“I was just wondering what he's up to,” said Dean. “He's got to be up to something right?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, far too evasively. “Angel stuff or . . . I don't know.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed.

_Definitely weird._

Castiel called later that day and visited three days after that, though he only stayed for one night. The odd phone call was never discussed, and Dean grew even more suspicious.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

A few days later, Dean finally got answers. One of the members of the Styne family, the old European family who sought the Book of the Damned, told Dean while captured that the Book was spelled against fire damage. It hadn’t been burned – Sam had lied to him.

Not only had Sam lied, but he had pulled both Cas and Charlie into helping him decode the book so that they could use its dark magic to get rid of the Mark. But the Stynes caught up with Charlie, for real this time. 

They found her in the bathtub of a no-tell motel room, her head tilted to the side and her body covered in blood.

Dean saw red. The Mark of Cain and his own emotions swirled into one big monstrous red cloud. He would deal with Sam, Cas, and the Book of the Damned later…

_Kill. They will die for what they’ve done._

He snuck into their mansion in Louisiana, where he was confronted with seven gunmen and multiple Stynes. 

When Dean had killed Abaddon, and then later Cain, it was less obvious, less tangible. But this time, Dean felt the rage well up inside him and feed on the Mark, and the mixture was so potent that suddenly he was moving faster than even he understood. There was blood everywhere, and the strength of men in numbers, and even bullets, but they were no match for him. And soon, they were all dead.

After that, he went to the bunker. There, he found the member of the Styne family that he had captured earlier – the monster that had killed Charlie, flanked by a burly man (extra muscle, Dean thought) and a younger boy (a trainee, perhaps?). 

_Power. Freedom. She will be avenged. They will all die._

The thirst of the Mark filled his blood once more, and the blood rushed in his ears. 

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel knew something was wrong as soon as he got to the bunker. The door had been thrown off the hinges, and nothing was in its proper place. He ran as fast as he could to the main room, though with his angel hearing he could already hear the showdown that was occurring.

“There's bad in you,” Dean’s voice was saying. “It's in your blood. Now you can deny it and you can run from it all you want, but that bad.... will always win.”

“I'll do anything you want,” said a second voice. “Okay, please. You don't need to do this. Please.”

Castiel ran into the room just as Dean hesitated and put down a gun. Then, in one fluid motion, he shot a young teenage boy squarely in the forehead. “Yeah,” he said. I do.”

“Dean!” he yelled, running forward to feel for a pulse on the teenager. He was dead, of course. “What have you done? You killed him.”

“I took down a monster.,” Dean said. “Because that's what I do. And I'll continue to do that until…”

“Until you become the monster,” said Castiel, standing up to face Dean squarely. 

_The man he loved… No longer a man._ Their bond had kept the Mark at bay, but the Mark was corrupting their bond, warping it in ways even Castiel didn’t understand.

“You can leave now, Cas,” snapped Dean. 

“No. I can't, because I'm your friend.” They had never claimed to be any more than that, though everyone knew they were.

“Really?” Dean asked. “Well let me ask you something. Do you screw over all your _friends_?”

Castiel knew Dean was mad about his working on the Book of the Damned with Sam, but he didn’t see that he’d had another choice. That was becoming clearer by the day. “Sam and I were trying to cure you! We still are!” he shouted.

“Like hell,” snapped Dean.

“We can read the Book now,” offered Castiel desperately.

“Oh, so what?” Dean snapped, his voice low and dangerous. “So you _might_ find a spell that _might_ take this crap off my arm? But even if you do, what's it gonna cost? ‘Cause magic like that does not come free. It comes with a price that you pay in blood. So thanks, but I'm good.” Dean started to walk away.

“No,” Castiel said firmly, grabbing Dean’s shoulder and whirling him around. “You’re not. Maybe you could fight the Mark for years. Maybe centuries, like Cain did. But you cannot fight it forever. And when you finally turn – and you _will_ turn – Sam, and everyone you know, everyone you love… they could be long dead.”

Dean swallowed hard.

“Everyone except me,” Castiel challenged, and Dean looked away uncomfortably.

“I’m the one who will have to watch you murder the world,” said Castiel fiercely. “So if there’s even a small chance we can save you, I won’t let you walk out of this room.”

“Oh, you think you have a choice,” said Dean dangerously. The Mark sensed a challenge, and Dean was under its control now.

“I think the Mark is changing you,” protested Castiel.

“You're wrong,” said Dean.

“Am I?” challenged Castiel. “Because the Dean Winchester I know would never have murdered that kid.” 

“Yeah well, that Dean's always been kind of a dick,” Dean said flippantly. He made to leave, but Castiel stopped him once again.

“Dean!” Castiel said, his hand on Dean’s chest. “I don’t want to have to hurt you!”

“I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” said Dean, and he grabbed Castiel’s arm and twisted. Then he grabbed him by the lapels and began punching him.

Castiel had known he was strong, but the strength of Cain surprised even him. It had progressed too far… Dean was gone now, leaving only the crazed look of a murderer and the Mark shining on his arm.

The punching continued, and Castiel felt himself bleeding… Dean was stronger now, even then when he had been a Knight of Hell, Castiel realized hopelessly. He was stronger than Castiel now. How had it gotten this bad?

Castiel felt the blows continue, and then something changed. He was killing him, Castiel realized. 

_I’ll die here, killed by the one I love…_ And he felt only a desperate sadness.

Blood was in his mouth, and he could barely talk. Dean stood over him angrily with the angel blade. 

_Killing a friend… Dean will be gone afterward, completely. There would be no going back. “_ Dean… please,” begged Castiel, his voice hoarse and choked with blood. 

For one second, Castiel saw Dean hesitate. For one short second, Castiel saw love in Dean’s eyes, nights spent in each other’s arms…

Dean slammed the angel blade down into the floor next to Castiel.

“You and Sam stay the hell away from me,” he said as he walked out of the bunker. “Next time I won’t miss!”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

“So I take it you guys broke up?” Sam asked when he arrived. Castiel had used his grace to heal the worst of his injuries, but he still sported several bruises and quite a bit of swelling. They weren’t magical injuries, so they would heal by tomorrow.

_Break up?_ Castiel thought, testing the words carefully in his mind. _Were we… together?_ He supposed that, in many ways, he and Dean had been “together.”

**** _Is this what a normal break-up is like? When humans do it in the movies, there is always more crying and less punching._

He decided to ask Sam. “Sam… is it normal after a break-up to feel this… angry?” 

Sam looked at him and sighed, setting down the stack of books he had been carrying back to where they belonged after the Stynes raided the bunker. “You had a bad fight,” he told Castiel wisely, “but you have to know it was mostly due to the Mark.”

“Yeah, I figured that out when he almost stabbed me with my angel blade,” Castiel said wryly. “I’m no expert on relationships but I’m pretty sure that’s not normal.”

Sam laughed. “Cas, nothing we do is normal,” he said. “I’m just saying your fight was more about the Mark than about Dean’s feelings for you, or… whatever.” He looked away uncomfortably.

Castiel did know, but that didn’t make it any easier. He was determined – this wouldn’t be how it ended. He _had_ to save his friend. In the wake of all other options, only one remained: The Book of the Damned. Castiel did, of course, think of the possible consequences of curing the Mark using the Book of the Damned. His own advice kept coming back to him: “ _I've made deals born of desperation, and they always end in blood and tears – always.”_

Still, as Sam repeatedly pointed out, “No one – not you, not Dean – not anybody can tell me what those consequences are!” More importantly, Castiel failed to see another way to solve the problem. He didn’t want to kill his friend – he was no longer even sure that he could. Therefore, he assisted Sam in his plans for the Book of the Damned with renewed energy.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

In mid-August, Sam left to chase a lead on Dean, leaving Castiel in charge. And so, when the spell to get rid of the Mark was finally decoded, Castiel used Crowley to gather the ingredients, and then allowed Rowena to perform the spell. 

As Rowena added Dean’s hair to the bowl with the other ingredients, a bluish smoke began to rise and a bright light illuminated Rowena’s face. Suddenly, a blast wave erupted from the bowl, knocking over everyone in the room – Rowena, Crowley, and Castiel himself. A bolt of red lightning blasted from the bowl, causing a hole in the roof.

Castiel knew immediately that they had erred. There was a _feeling_ , the kind he’d never had before, except for when Lucifer rose. Even then it hadn’t been this strong. A feeling that somehow, somewhere, the magical universe had been drastically altered.

Then, as Castiel watched with horror, Rowena shook off the chains that Sam had fastened over a month before. “Manete!” she yelled.

Castiel was paralyzed.

“What is this?” he heard Crowley yelling. “This is impossible. You're not powerful enough.”

The magic had cracked her chains, Castiel realized too late.

“To what?” asked the witch. “Control the legs of a bored king and a withered angel?”

She turned to Castiel. “Impetus bestiarum.”

A beast spell – he recognized the spell even before he felt it. He could feel it in every bone of his body…

_Rip, tear, kill…_


	14. Dean and Cas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 11, Part 1

Dean spent the better part of August as drunk as he could possibly manage. There were long gaps of time during which he remembered nothing. He definitely _did_ remember getting a hunter friend of his killed due to his bad attitude and error in judgement. 

Any time he would begin to miss Sam or Cas, or feel the effects of the Mark, he simply drowned himself in the nearest bottle. 

Finally, he summoned Death. Death said the Mark couldn’t be cured. The Mark was both lock and key to the cage holding God’s sister, the Darkness, who had been imprisoned since the dawn of time. God had given the Mark to Lucifer, but it had corrupted him. He in turn passed the Mark to Cain, who passed it to Dean.

Death said that the Mark could be passed to another, but Dean refused. Instead, Death offered him a deal: Death would transport Dean somewhere where he couldn’t kill any humans, in return for Sam’s life. 

He’d like to say that he was drunk when he used Death’s own scythe to kill him, but honestly that decision was because he had spent so long defending his brother that he literally couldn’t do anything else, even to save the world. 

_Like I would make any other choice._

Shortly after this, whatever Sam and Castiel’s team had been doing to remove the Mark finally worked. There was white lightning, and the Mark was gone from Dean’s arm, as quickly as it had appeared.

Dean was instantly more sober than he’d been in months (probably something to do with the lightning). With his sobriety was the realization that Sam and Castiel had done something truly _horrible_. 

It wasn’t a _bad_ feeling, exactly, although it _definitely_ meant bad news. It was a feeling as though the world had been turned on its axis, as though a colossal scale had been suddenly upset.

They had let out the Darkness.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel managed to call Dean after the Darkness was released, but the phone call left Dean more worried than relieved. Dean and Sam were busy dealing with an outbreak of a zombie virus which they were certain had been caused by the Darkness, and Castiel wasn’t fairing much better.

“Dean, I am fine,” he said. “Besides, what I have, you can't help me.”

That wasn’t ominous _at all._

Castiel ended the call abruptly with, “Goodbye. It may be some time before we see one another again.” 

As it turned out, however, Dean saw Castiel the next day. He had made it back to the bunker after (according to Castiel) being tortured by a group of angels for answers about the Darkness. He looked even worse than Dean felt, which was saying something. His eyes were bloodshot and red, and he cautioned the brothers that he was still suffering from the effects of Rowena’s beast spell.

“Chain me up!” he said urgently. “Now!”

Dean and Sam didn’t need to be told twice, and soon Castiel was in the dungeon, in angel-specific chains. It was only after Castiel was safely chained that the three of them had time to think.

“What happened to you?” asked Dean.

“Rowena,” said Castiel. “It’s some sort of spell.”

“I know that,” Dean snapped. “I meant, do you have any idea how to reverse it?”

Castiel looked away and growled, a low, primal growl that made the hair on the back of Den’s neck stand up. Finally, he said hesitantly, “I think only the caster can reverse it or cure it. If I were human, I’d be dead by now.”

He paused. “I might be able to stave off the effects for awhile. I need dittany, and fluxweed if you have it, and a bowl and mixer.”

An hour, a potion, and three separate incantations later, Castiel seemed somewhat better. He more resembled a human who had the flu than an angel hit with a beast spell, anyway. He reported that he had the chills, but that he was “feeling less out of control,” which Dean decided was a good sign.

“Dude, I’ve gotta hit the hay,” said Sam. “I’m exhausted. We’ll try to…” His voice was broken off by a yawn, and he only managed to say, “tomorrow.”

Dean nodded, excusing his brother. “Go to bed, man.”

Finally, Dean was left alone with Castiel. The angel was closing his eyes, though his shallow breathing indicated that he was still awake.

“Cas,” Dean said, standing with a yawn, “Should I make you a bed down here? “Even if we have to keep you chained up, we can at least keep you comfortable.”

Castiel lifted his head slightly. “I don’t sleep, Dean,” he said.

Dean sighed. “Well, I do. I’ll be right back.”

Dean grabbed his memory foam mattress from his bed upstairs and half-carried, half-drug it into the dungeon. Castiel shot him a surprised look. “You’re… staying here?”

_I miss you. I fucked up really bad. I never should’ve taken on the Mark and now we’ve let out a primordial force of nature that’s been locked up for eternity, and you’re dying, and I just want to lie next to you even if you kill me._

“Yeah,” Dean said. “This way, if you take a… a bad turn during the night, I’ll be here.”

“Yeah,” said Castiel. “That sounds… really good…”

Dean brought blankets and pillows. He draped a blanket over Castiel, who by that point seemed to be asleep on the floor. 

Dean positioned the mattress at the far end of the dungeon. Then he gently manipulated Castiel’s chains so that if the angel reached, he could lay down on the side of the bed closest to him, but not be able to reach the other side. Finally, Dean bundled under his own blanket and fell asleep almost immediately.

A few minutes later, Dean awakened to the sounds of chains moving and felt a weight on the bed. He sensed no ill will, and moved over to the far end of the bed so that Castiel could lie next to him. He could feel the heat coming off of Castiel’s body. Once Castiel seemed to have situated, Dean moved infinitely closer and put his hand against Castiel’s back, knowing that the angel couldn’t initiate contact due to the chains. A full-body shudder shook Castiel, and Dean guiltily withdrew his hand. Castiel strained in the chains to move backward, seeking contact again, so Dean replaced his hand.

“I missed you, Dean,” Castiel whispered into the darkness.

“Missed you too, Cas,” Dean whispered back. He fell back to sleep with his hand still pressed against Castiel’s back.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

On the second day after they returned to the bunker, Castiel tossed and turned, awake for the first time since early the previous evening.

“What’s wrong?” asked Dean from behind him, concerned. It was early in the morning, perhaps 4AM, and Castiel’s tossing and turning had awakened him from a dream that was (for once) not about death and Hell.

“My grace is dwindling,” said Castiel frustratedly. “I haven’t got long. I’m trying to wait as long as possible before I use more of it.” 

“We’ll find something tomorrow,” Dean reassured him. He was hard, and (unfortunately) awake, and he sleepily rubbed himself against Castiel without thinking. The angel let out a groan that was halfway between pleasure and pain.

Dean instinctively reached for Castiel’s erection.

“Don’t!” Castiel snarled, and he thrashed in his chains. He rolled toward them, away from Dean, so that he could lie on his other side and face the other man, which pulled him off of the mattress. Dean moved away from him and sat up fully. He could see the red coloring his friends’ eyes, even in the dimly lit dungeon.

“I’m sorry,” said Dean. “I-…”

“I want to,” Castiel said raggedly. “But I can’t… I can’t get closer to you.” He looked miserable.

Dean sighed. A cold shower was probably in order.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Despite Castiel’s insistence that he didn’t sleep, the angel had been sleeping even more often than Dean. Each day, however, he looked more tired and strained. At times, he began to shudder or convulse. “I’m drawing on my grace to keep the spell at bay,” he explained to Dean. “It’s weakening me, but at least I’m still in control. But it’s not infinite, and my grace can’t heal or replenish while I’m in this condition. I need to find something-…”

“ _We_ ,” Dean insisted. “ _We_ need to find something. You’re not alone, Cas.”

By the third full day after they returned to the bunker, Dean and Sam grew tired of visiting Castiel in the dungeon and insisted that he relocate his chains to the library upstairs. At least there he felt like a member of the family, even if he was still chained to the floor. 

That night, Dean brought his mattress upstairs to the library and arranged it like it had been in the basement, fastening Castiel’s chains so that he couldn’t reach Dean with his hands or face.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel remained awake. He was more tired than ever, but he had slept off and on through much of the past few days. For now, the beast was keeping sleep at bay. He thought about getting up to do more research, but he also wanted to use the last of his time on earth to watch Dean. Despite how much Dean’s presence tempted the beast, it made Castiel feel peaceful.

_Was this how Dean felt when he had the Mark?_

Castiel scooted off of the mattress and turned over so that he could see the man he loved in the bunker’s dim lighting. He looked peaceful in sleep.

Castiel’s grace was almost gone. There was enough left to begin to replenish and heal if he survived this ordeal, but that amount wouldn’t be sufficient to hold off the beast spell for much longer. Would Dean kill him in the end? He much preferred a warrior’s death to this odd, slow loss of control.

Dean’s eyes fluttered open. When he caught Castiel staring, they opened fully in surprise and worry.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered, swallowing and pushing back the beast. “What are we?”

Dean was silent for a long time. “We’re just _us_ ,” Dean insisted finally, stubborn. “We’re Dean and Cas, and Sam, just like we’ve always been.”

“I love you, Dean,” Castiel whispered.

“ _No_ ,” Dean insisted. “You can’t say that to me. Not now. We’ll find Rowena, Cas, and make her undo this spell.” He tried to move closer, but Castiel shook his head.

“Dean, if you have to kill me-…”

“No,” said Dean stubbornly.

_I miss you. Don’t come too close, but don’t leave._

“Okay, Dean,” he said. He turned over so that his back was toward Dean again and his arms outstretched in the chains. He felt Dean’s hand on his back once more, and it was welcome, even though the beast roared in his head.

“If you have to kill me, I forgive you,” he whispered.

Dean didn’t answer, but his fingers tightened on Castiel’s back.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Early the next morning, both Sam and Dean left to chase a lead on Rowena. Dean wanted to stay behind, but Castiel begged him to leave. His thoughts were scattered, and he’d spent most of the remainder of the night convulsing. It would be easier, he hoped, without Dean around to tempt the beast spell.

It wasn’t. Castiel could tell the moment his Grace became too weak to overcome the beast spell, because he felt suddenly calm. There was no anxiety, no fear, only the beast, and orders, and _hunt, rip, tear…_   
There were streets full of humans, and he wanted _so much_ to ignore the beast, but it wouldn’t be long now. He tried to search out a quiet spot, away from the humans. He couldn’t even remember leaving the bunker. How had he escaped the chains?

Then Dean was there, and it was like when he was being controlled by Naomi, all those years ago. He could see Dean pleading with him, feel Dean’s blood on his hands, but it was as though he were buried underwater…

_I can’t fight it, Dean leave, rip, tear…_

“ _Desiste!”_

He stopped punching, and he recognized the red-headed witch. 

_Is it over? I’m free?_

Sam was there, holding a gun to Rowena’s head, screaming.

“ _Adlevo onus tuum.”_

Pain...

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel floated in and out of consciousness for a few hours. He knew that Rowena had escaped, but at least the beast spell was over. He could feel the rumble of the Impala below him, and fell quickly back asleep.

The next time he awakened, he realized that he’d been taken to Dean’s bed, not his own. His shoes, trenchcoat, pants, and white long-sleeved shirt had been removed at some point in the night, leaving only a white t-shirt and boxers. Dean was asleep next to him, his hand curled reflexively in the back of Castiel’s t-shirt and his leg thrown over Castiel’s own.

Castiel turned over to face him, and Dean’s eyes fluttered open. 

“You’re awake,” Dean said, looking surprised but pleased.

“What happened? What time is it?”

“You’ve been asleep for nearly 8 hours. It’s the middle of the night. And we did it, like I said we would. We freed you from the spell.”

_It’s done._ Dean had saved him, this time.

Castiel did a mental inventory of his true form. Weak, but he would recover with enough time – a _lot_ of time.

_It’ll mean a long stay at the bunker…_

“Yeah, you did,” said Castiel, smiling slightly. “Dean and Cas.”

“Yeah” said Dean sleepily. “Dean and Cas.” Then he fell back to sleep.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel felt better the next day, though still very physically weak. Sam likened it to a human who was still getting over a bad cold. His grace would take a while to replenish, even longer than his physical strength.

Dean looked as bad as Castiel felt. Castiel had beaten him badly during his last fight against the beast spell. As he watched Dean apply an ice pack to the bruises on his face, Castiel couldn’t hold back his guilt. “Dean, I... There aren't words,” he said guiltily.

_I can’t even keep the one I love from harm…_

“You're right,” Dean said. “There aren't words, Cas, 'cause there's no need. You were under a spell. It's fine.”

“Yeah, but you had Rowena,” insisted Castiel. He knew the brothers had been forced to trade her freedom for his own. “Because of me, you-...” 

“You know, Cas, we've got the Codex,” interrupted Sam. “That's a start. You know, it'll slow Rowena down some. If we'd killed her, the Book of the Damned would've been lost.”

“Besides, we’ve got bigger fish to fry,” said Dean.

“The Darkness,” agreed Castiel. “What does she want?”

“Well, the big question is, where the hell is she?” said Dean, groaning as he repositioned due to his injuries.

“Dean, I can fix that,” Castiel said guiltily, reaching across the table to do his best. In fact, he doubted he had enough grace to fix them completely, but he could at least lessen the pain some. 

“No, no, no. No, no. It's fine, Cas,” Dean said. “Besides, I had it comin'.” 

Castiel knew that Dean was referring to having beat him up while Dean had been under the influence of the Mark. He supposed that, in some way, refusing to let Castiel try to heal his injuries allowed Dean to forgive himself for his own transgressions. For that reason, Castiel allowed it.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel was tired before Dean that night, as he hadn’t yet finished recovering his grace. When Dean went to bed, he was half worried that the angel would have gone to his own room. He was pleased, then, to find Castiel asleep in his bed, breathing deeply.

The next morning, he awoke to find Castiel watching him, a lazy half-smile on his face. As much as he had always told Castiel it was “creepy”, Dean had missed this. First there were the nights drunk and alone with the Mark, and then the nights in the bunker worrying about Castiel, whose eyes were clouded with bloodlust. Now Castiel’s eyes were clear and blue and adoring. Dean smiled. “Morning, Cas.” 

He had never been able to assign a pet name out loud. Somehow, it would make the thing between them too real, too absolute… and therefore, too easily lost. Sometimes, in his head, Dean called him “my angel.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, his eyes directed at Dean’s bruises. “I’m sure I can heal-…”

“No,” Dean said, and Castiel looked tortured. Dean knew Castiel well enough to know that the angel would continue to feel guilty about Dean’s injuries unless he came up with a solution. “Look, Cas, you got these injuries getting me out of a mess that I made,” said Dean. “But, if you’re that determined to lay your hands on my body, I wouldn’t be opposed to another method.” Dean adopted his best persuasive grin.

Castiel’s eyes darkened. “You’re sure you’re up for that?” he asked carefully.

Dean knew Castiel would never make the first move, not while black and blue still adorned his skin. He climbed on top of the angel and gave his hips a sinuous roll. 

Castiel was already hard. “You’ve been holding out on me,” Dean teased.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Cas said huskily, but he thrusted upward with a low groan. Castiel gently placed a hand on Dean’s face, and Dean leaned into Castiel’s palm, the bruise on his cheek faded enough now not to hurt.

“Cas,” Dean said huskily, and it occurred to him then that he could never in a million years express to the angel how much he meant to him. But it was here, in the bedroom and in the quiet moments between monsters, between apocalypses, that maybe he could show him. 

Dean peeled down the covers and his own boxers as quickly as possible, then started in on Castiel’s boxer-briefs more slowly, uncovering him one inch of skin at a time.

“Dean,” Castiel said again, his eyes on a bruise on Dean’s stomach. “I-…”

“Cas,” Dean said sharply, meeting Castiel’s eyes with a glare. “I’m fine. I’ve done worse to you, more than once. Let it go.”

Castiel looked as though he meant to protest, but Dean finished with Castiel’s boxer-briefs and took him in hand instead. He was large and hard and perfect. Castiel gave an involuntary thrust into Dean’s fist. 

Dean leaned forward and whispered, “Turn over,” kissing Castiel on the neck and down his chest before climbing off with a final pump to his erection. As much as he wanted to see Castiel while they did this, he also didn’t want Castiel to have to stare at his bruises.

Castiel gave a dark look of suspicion, and Dean knew that the angel knew exactly what he was doing. He acquiesced, though. Once Castiel was on his stomach, Dean traced his fingertips across the angel’s hips and thighs and butt. He made wide, sweeping curves, massaging Castiel’s butt as he grew closer and closer to the hole. Dean grabbed some lubricant off of the night stand next to him, and then slowly fit one and then two fingers inside, allowing them to catch on the tight muscle on the way in. Castiel thrusted once into the mattress, a desperate moan escaping him.

It never failed to surprise Dean that, as an angel, Castiel appeared able to prep himself at a moment’s notice for this type of sex. They had never required more than a minimal amount of lube, as Castiel could adjust his… vessel?... as needed. And still, Dean checked each time as though somehow it would be different.

Dean found Castiel’s prostate at the same time as he nudged his firm hip with his other hand. Castiel lifted himself wordlessly off the bed with another moan as his erection caught on the sheets. Dean rose to his knees and began to stroke Castiel’s cock in time with the thrust of his fingers. His own erection stood proud against the back of Castiel’s thigh, and he thrust forward unconsciously. “Feel that, Cas? I missed you,” he said huskily.

“I’m ready, Dean,” Castiel groaned. “Want you.”

Dean grabbed a small amount of lube for good measure, coating himself. He pushed all the way in slowly, then gave Castiel time to adjust before thrusting in earnest. Castiel made a minor adjustment so that Dean was hitting the right spot, and let out a loud groan.

_Perfect._ It was a rhythm both knew well, but not well enough. They moved slowly, in tandem, and Dean felt that if this could have continued for hours he would’ve been happy. It was _making love_ , in the most intimate sense of the word – not a means to an end, but simply to be closer.

Dean felt himself coming too quickly, and reached around to grab Castiel. Once, twice, and the angle was awkward, but then Castiel seized up and groaned, “Dean!” Dean was coming too, the pleasure spiraling and then releasing in an electric haze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the whole Beastiarum spell was never very clear. It was explained to us viewers that the spell effected Castiel differently because he was an angel, but they never went into detail about why sometimes he seemed to be able to have a full conversation with people and just looked a little feverish, while other times he acted like a rabid dog. Enter plot clean-up.  
> ALSO: I wanted to try to characterize Castiel to be as much “angel” as possible. Dean is dealing with “normal” intimacy issues, like not wanting to express his emotions and, in fact, repressing them. He’s slowly becoming more connected and more intimate with Castiel, however (in contrast with his relationship with Amara, which is just freaky). But Castiel is not at all human – he’s had a millenia of flitting around with nowhere to call home other than Heaven, a millenia of being responsible to no one. And, even though he can read emotions, he transcends them – his love for Dean is more of a soul bond with a physical component, and he has no idea how to fit that into “normal human relationship” constraints. It makes for some fun dynamics.


	15. If It's Not Broken, Don't Fix It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 11, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for this chapter I had to do something I haven’t done before in this story, and that is to take actual canon lines and insert my own in the middle of them, as if the writers simply edited out any Cas-related discussion between the brothers. (Normally I only add scenes or add onto scenes.) I’ll try not to make a habit of it, but in this case it couldn’t be avoided.

Dean’s injuries had mostly healed by the first week of September, but Castiel had regained “less than half” of his grace. “It was almost completely drained by the spell,” said Castiel. “And the potion I ingested to help my grace keep the spell at bay also works against my grace, so it’ll take twice as long to replenish as usual.”

Each day Castiel appeared healthier and had more stamina. Each day he slept less, and ate less, remarking dismally that food “tasted more and more like molecules again.” 

Dean had to admit that Castiel living in the bunker was… oddly peaceful. He enjoyed regular sex, for one thing, without the overwhelming need for constant conversation he had always felt with women. It was almost like in Purgatory, except that they were doing more researching about the Darkness and less killing everything.

Castiel even had a bit of scruff on his chin, though it was nowhere near the beard he had sported in Purgatory. Shortly after the beast spell issue was resolved, Castiel had decided to begin taking human showers for awhile and leaving his beard scruffy to spare himself the grace he usually used to keep his vessel looking clean and shaved. Dean added that he should also make himself at home in the bunker and not wear the trenchcoat all the time.

“Like this?” he asked Dean after finishing his first shower in the time that he and Dean had been… whatever they were. He wore only his dress pants and a white button down shirt, with half of the buttons left unbuttoned.

_Yes. Yes, exactly like that. Do that, always._ But Dean couldn’t quite make the words come out of his mouth. He allowed his eyes to travel up and down his angel friend slowly, then said, “You look good, man!” He made up for his lack of words by gently moving Castiel backward toward the bed and mouthing at his new stubble. He was pretty sure Castiel could sense his approval.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

When a case came up in Oregon, Castiel encouraged Dean and Sam to go without him as he was still recovering. Sensing no ill will, Dean agreed.

Halfway there, Dean drove the Impala into the parking lot of a bar.

“Are you serious?” Sam groaned. “Dean, it's late. I'm exhausted and starving. And this place . . . I mean, even Swayze wouldn't come to this roadhouse.”

“Okay, first of all, never use Swayze's name in vain. Okay? Ever,” Dean commanded. “Second, you don't remember this place? You don't remember Heather? The hunter that we worked a wendigo case a couple years ago with?” That had been during the time Castiel was still trapped in Purgatory.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah, exactly,” said Dean. 

“What, she's here tonight?” asked Sam.

She wasn’t, and even if she was, Dean woudn’t have been interested. 

“I texted her. She's working a rugaru case in Texas. Actually, she never texted me back. That's not the point,” Dean said. “The point is, we have a ton of driving left to do just to go to a town where there's probably not a case. But in there . . . Good times. And time heals all wounds, Sam, especially good times. What do you say?”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean had had a great night hustling pool and getting drunk. When he came back to the Impala in the early morning, it was only to find a very naked blond girl in the back seat with his brother.

“Man, I needed that,” admitted Sam the next evening. Dean had spent the day kidding him about his “night moves”.

“And hey, look at that, you're finally not a virgin anymore,” Dean responded. But you know what? I think it was time. I respect the fact that you wanted to stay true and pure and waited.”

“Yeah, you know what? You -- you're an idiot.”

“Even put a blanket down,” Dean said, gesturing to the back seat. “Buddy, classy and thoughtful as always.”

“I tried to give her my number,” Sam said. “You know what she said?”

“"We got tonight. Who needs tomorrow"?” Dean guessed.

“Is everything a Bob Seger song to you?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Dean said.

Sam sighed. “It was nice knowing you, Piper.”

“Piper?” Dean said jovially. “That's awesome. One-night wonders, man. Shoot, we're lucky we still get that at all.”

“Really?” Sam asked. “You don't . . . Ever want something more? Not even with Cas?”

Dean tried not to wince at Sam’s mention of his relationship. He wasn’t sure what made it so difficult for his brother to mention, because it had nothing to do with his sexuality, not anymore. Perhaps it was because he was so scared to lose it again.

“I'm sorry, have you met us?” Dean asked. “We're batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs.”

“You don't ever think about something?” Sam asked. “Not marriage or whatever. But . . . Something? If not Cas, you know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?”

Dean realized that his brother had misinterpreted his avoidance of the discussion of Cas to mean that things between them were unwell. 

“Sam, if it’s gonna be with anyone, it’s gonna be with Cas,” Dean said confidently. He honestly hadn’t really thought of settling down… mostly because he tried _not_ to think about it. “But you know how it is. This life isn’t really famous for its longevity.”

_Hoping just sets you up for failure. Time to change the subject._

“Have you not heard a single word Bob's been singing about? You're tired. I can tell. You're exhausted. Well, I'm still wired, so I'm gonna pull over, get some gas. You hop in the back, get some Z's 'cause, buddy, you earned 'em. Proud of ya! Piper. Mmm. Man, she smelled good, too.”

Dean wasn’t stupid. He knew he loved Castiel, he just… hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge it. If he acknowledged it, he would lose it. 

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

By the end of October, Castiel had fully recovered his grace, but Dean noticed that he still didn’t seem to have any desire to leave the bunker. “Do you think it’s weird?” Dean asked Sam a few days before Halloween during a routine trip to the supermarket. “Every time I ask him if he wants to go with me to the store or something, he opts out and says he’s busy researching.”

Sam gave him one of his patented looks of disapproval. “He’s been through a lot,” he said. “Just give him time. The beast spell took a lot out of him. Besides, it’s not like you’re exactly crowded.”

It was true. Castiel had his own room, which was where he spent most of his time if not in the community areas. He still knocked whenever he entered Dean’s room. He had long since abandoned taking showers since his grace had fully restored, but when he had taken them, he usually done so in his own bathroom. In truth, Dean spent half of his nights in his own room (which had his memory foam mattress) and half of them in Castiel’s room (which had the larger television, and also Castiel).

Castiel had always given him space to progress their relationship however he wanted, which was part of why he adored the angel so much. Still, he worried that Castiel had been at the bunker for an entire two months without making up an excuse to leave. 

“It’s just not like him, man,” Dean commented to Sam. “It’s weird.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel knew that his experiences had gotten the better of him. Post-traumatic Stress Disorder, the humans called it. Perhaps it was just another way he was becoming more like them, beginning to understand them more. Fear was a new emotion - one he hadn’t experienced, overall, since his time as a human.

He didn’t enjoy it.

By mid-October, Sam and Dean had been on multiple hunts together, all of which he had declined. He was starting to feel worthless. Sure, he could decipher Enochian texts that the brothers couldn’t, which was helpful in trying to learn about the Darkness. Unfortunately, most of the Enochian texts he might have referenced about the Darkness were in Heaven or else halfway around the world. He had also spoken with an angel contact that had tipped him off about where Michael might have hidden some pre-Biblical lore in the Gaza strip. He thought about sending the brothers after it, but he knew the texts would surely be guarded by Enochian spells that only an angel could pass through. 

Castiel would do it himself… as soon as he could leave the bunker again without feeling like he wanted to throw up. Each time he tried, the flashbacks started – fighting with his brothers and sisters, fighting with Dean, the beast spell. This was his home now, and bad things happened when he left home – _he_ did bad things when he left home.

Despite his newly acquired fear of leaving home, Castiel was still a celestial being used to roaming the world and fighting for a worthy cause. Despite his refusal to accompany the brothers on cases, despite his human-like PTSD, he was _bored._

In desperation, he finally plucked up the courage to ask Dean something he’d been thinking about for awhile. “Dean,” he said one day in early November. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Dean said.

They were relaxing in Castiel’s bed, having just finished a rather fantastic round of sexual activities. They lay side by side, not quite close enough to touch, but close enough that Castiel could feel his body heat. Castiel knew that Dean was fast approaching sleep.

“Dean, do you think we should try intercourse the other way around?”

“Hmm?” Dean said sleepily.

“During sex, have you ever thought about switching roles?”

Dean’s eyes popped open, and his voice was louder than Castiel expected. “What, like… me on the _bottom?”_ He flinched.

He obviously didn’t want to try it. Castiel shouldn’t have brought it up, he realized that now. _This was a mistake._ “Never mind,” Castiel said, moving just slightly backward. “Forget I said anything.”

“I mean… don’t you like it like it is?” Dean said, now obviously fully awake. He unconsciously moved toward Castiel.

“Oh, yes!” Castiel answered, honestly and enthusiastically, reaching out to throw an arm around Dean. _It’s already so much more than I ever could’ve hoped for._

“I mean, if you want to try it, then maybe we can… _discuss_ it…” Dean added, obviously uncomfortable.

“No, it’s really fine,” Castiel added hurriedly. “I just wanted to know what you thought.”

“You sure?” Dean asked, looking at Castiel imploringly.

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel said firmly. “It’s fine.”

Dean smiled, seeming relieved. “I mean, if it’s not broken, don’t fix it, right?”

Castiel nodded, kissing Dean softly. “Night, Dean.” He tried not to let disappointment settle in his stomach.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Ultimately, it was Metatron that finally prompted Castiel to leave the bunker. He saw the former angel in the reflection of a camera on the news. As it turned out, Metatron had been listening to police scanners and searching out crimes to videotape for a profit, still in search of his “perfect story.”

Castiel was angry – angry at Metatron’s past deeds, angry that he had escaped, and angry that this was what the former angel had chosen to do with his human life. He pumped Metatron for information, and stole the demon tablet back.

Metatron explained that the Darkness, who was calling herself Amara, was actually God’s sister! In order for God to create the universe, he had had to lock her away at the dawn of time.

After Metatron had told Castiel everything he knew, Castiel him go. He was pathetic as a human, and Castiel felt sorry for him. He hurried back to the bunker – when he had last heard from Dean, he and Sam were in the midst of going after the Darkness, who was currently feeding on demon souls under Crowley’s supervision.

When he got back to the bunker, Sam explained to him that Dean had confronted the Darkness while he had fought off demons, but the Darkness had somehow managed to escape. In turn, Castiel explained what had happened with Metatron.

“You let Metatron go?” Dean asked, shock and anger blazing across his face.

“He was pathetic as a human,” Castiel said defensively. “Besides, what would we have done with him? He’s not like Crowley, he needs food and water to stay alive. You can’t just leave him in the dungeon and hope he’s still okay when we get back from traveling.

“Besides, I’ve been in the bunker for long enough,” Castiel finished. “I can’t stick around to -…”

“Look, guys, I'm as glad as anyone that Stella got her groove back, okay?” Dean interrupted. “But you let Metatron go?”

Castiel felt his annoyance rise. “Dean, how many times are you gonna repeat that question?”

“I'm gonna say it again!” Dean exclaimed. “You let Metatron go!”

“He's not going anywhere!” Castiel exclaimed. “If he makes a move, if he draws the slightest attention, the full force of angelkind will snuff him out!”

Castiel lowered his voice, realizing that he was yelling. “Look, you -- neither of you saw him. He is a human, and a pitiable one at that. He's not a threat to us. I mean, I put him in traction.”

Dean was still glaring daggers at Castiel. “Guys, bigger fish to fry here,” said Sam, obviously trying to break the tension. “Amara is in the wind.”

“Yeah, God's freaking sister,” said Dean.

“You said you were close,” Castiel commented to Dean. “Dean, how'd she get away?”

“I’m sorry, what part of ‘God's freaking sister’ did you not understand?” Dean exclaimed. “She overpowered me -- end of story.” 

_He’s hiding something._ One look at Sam confirmed that he thought the same. That would explain his irrational anger, then.

“What's our plan here, fellas?” Dean asked.

_He’s changing the subject. He’s definitely hiding something._ “You said you got everything you could out of Metatron, right? So, where on earth are we gonna find an answer on how to stop her? I don't suppose God's decided to share any wisdom on the matter.”

“I’ll look into the lore,” said Sam, leaving the room.

Dean seemed to be struggling to say something. _Time to go. There is much to be done. Dean can keep secrets some other time._

“I’m going to pack up and head for Gaza,” Castiel said. “I’ve got a contact there that found some pre-Biblical lore once in Michael’s possession. It might have some references to the Darkness.” 

“Ok,” Dean said. “I’ll see you when you get back. A few days, right?”

“It might take a few weeks, actually,” Castiel said, and when Dean gave a brief frown, Castiel wondered if perhaps he should stay until morning. Humans were all about balance, after all. Dean had seemed worried and annoyed that Castiel never left the bunker, but Castiel knew Dean also hated it when Castiel was gone for too long.

Castiel pulled out a chair and sat down. “Dean… I’m sorry I haven’t left the bunker in so long. I’ve been afraid. But now I’ve moved past those fears. I need to do my part to help beat the Darkness, and there’s no reason to delay. I helped let her evil into the world, after all. But I’ll be back as soon as I find what I’m looking for.”

Dean’s face relaxed slowly, and the mask slipped from his features into a sad but resigned smile. “I know, Cas,” he said.

“I plan to leave first thing in the morning,” Castiel said. _One more night won’t be too much trouble. I do like to drive under the sun, and it is getting late._

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean awakened when he felt the bed shift around him. He felt Castiel’s arms slide out from around him, and he heard the rustling of Castiel’s belongings as he finished packing. He opened his eyes groggily. “Are you taking off?”

“Yes,” said Castiel’s deep voice. “Thank you for your hospitality. I enjoyed staying here. I’ll be back as soon as I find what I’m looking for in Gaza.”

Castiel spoke of the bunker as though it was a motel or a friends’ home, and something lurched uncomfortably inside Dean. “This is your home, Cas,” he said. “You’re always welcome here.”

He could see Castiel’s flash of a smile. The angel’s words continued to bother him, though, even as he drifted back to sleep. _Doesn’t he understand that we’re… that we’re…_

He was almost back to sleep when the angel whispered, “I love you, Dean.”

Dean froze.

Then Castiel was gone.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean tried not to be hurt that Castiel had taken off so abruptly. He understood that his friend had finally conquered whatever angelic demons he had kept him in the bunker, and was eager to do some good in the fight against the Darkness. 

And, after all, Dean hadn’t said anything to make the angel stay. He hadn’t said, “When I said you needed to get back in the game, I meant we needed to get back into the game together.”

He hadn’t said, “I love you, too. Please don’t leave without me.”

Instead, he hadn’t told Castiel about his bond with the Darkness, and he had yelled at the angel about letting Metatron go. He hadn’t acknowledged their… whatever they had, and he had refused to bottom. (The longer Castiel stayed away from the bunker, the more Dean wondered if that had been more of an issue than Castiel had let on.)

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

November moved into December, and Castiel returned from Gaza with a strip of pre-Biblical lore that was part English, part Aramaic, and completely worthless. It gave a few leads to other locations of other texts, however, and Castiel took off for the Vatican the following day.

December rolled into January, and Dean and Sam found out that Sam’s imaginary friend from childhood had actually been a zanna, an imaginary creature that helps children.

“I could have told you that,” Castiel told him over the phone. “I saw it in your brother’s memories. I assumed you knew.”

Dean realized that there were several things about Castiel that he should probably talk with the angel about, but, as usual, he couldn’t form the words when it really mattered.

Ultimately, when Sam suggested in mid-January that they seek out Lucifer in the cage to discuss options for ending the Darkness, Dean was just desperate enough to go along with the plan.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel understood that, in his own way, Dean had committed himself to a relationship with him. It was more than he ever could’ve hoped for, if he was being entirely honest, especially after his betrayal and his time as “God” five years prior. 

Castiel tried not to be resentful that Dean hadn’t said “I love you” in return and had instead pretended to be asleep. (Castiel had rebuilt Dean entirely after Hell and was more than capable of telling whether the man was truly asleep or not.) He tried not to be resentful that Dean wasn’t able to discuss certain things with him, that he wasn’t willing to try the bottom position during sexual intercourse, and that he was hiding something about the Darkness.

In truth, Castiel stayed away from the bunker more due his own sense of duty than to anything going on with Dean. The trip to Gaza actually took less time than he expected, and he delivered the texts to Dean in person when he could have just mailed them. It was a wonderful night of sex and affection, but then he had to leave once more. The Darkness was his and Sam’s fault, and he would do his part to rid the world of this curse.

After Gaza, Castiel went to the Vatican for several weeks, and then the lesser-known parts of Jerusalem. Much of his search was fruitless, but he did collect a variety of items that the Winchesters would undoubtedly need for potions in the future; their stocks were running low, especially of the more rare items.

In mid-January, the angels made a united attempt to smite the Darkness. Castiel wasn’t allowed in Heaven and so was not a part of the initial smiting, but afterward he headed toward the blast site to attempt to see if the smiting had worked.

Castiel found the Darkness easily, sucking out the soul of another angel. He had no chance of fighting her and winning, of course.

“Blue eyes, you’re not even worth the effort,” she told him. “And no offence, but you look a bit used up. Plus, I have a job for you.”

He felt pain on his chest – a message, he understood, written on him in blood. Then he was being transported away…

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel ended up in Crowley’s throne room at the entrance to Hell. He wasn’t sure if it was because the message Amara had written on his stomach was meant for Crowley, or because Amara knew of his friendship with Dean and had sent him to Dean’s side. Either way, he ended up in a room with Crowley, Dean, and Rowena.

“Amara,” he explained to the group. “She... she’s alive. She... she sent this message.” Castiel opened his trench-coat and shirt to reveal a message carved into his chest.

“I am coming,” Crowley read aloud. “Is that a threat?”

“Or a promise?” asked Dean.

Suddenly, they heard screams.

It was Sam, Castiel could tell.

_No._ _Surely they haven’t attempted to speak to Lucifer!_ Surely that wasn’t why everyone was gathered here, at the entrance to Hell…

But Castiel knew from the large pit of dread in his middle that that was exactly what had happened.

Something had gone wrong, of course. _The witch, probably_. The witch had betrayed them. _Or possibly Crowley…_ Either way, Sam was now trapped in the cage… with Lucifer. He and Dean ignored Crowley’s warnings and tore down the hallway toward the sound of screams.

“Hey, ass-butt!” Castiel yelled, the words wrenched from his throat once again in a time of need. He could see the cage, not in the depths of Hell like it should be, but somehow magically transported here. In the cage was Lucifer, standing over Sam, who was bleeding onto the floor. 

“Dean,” said Lucifer when Castiel and Dean stopped just in front of the cage. “Ah, the other one.” 

Lucifer snapped his fingers and they were magically transported into the cell with him. “Welcome to the party.”

“Scared?” Lucifer taunted.

“Not even a little,” answered Dean. He grabbed Castiel’s left hand just briefly with his right – not enough for Lucifer to see, but enough to greet and reassure his friend.

_Together._

Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand back, even as he prepared his angel blade with his other hand.

Lucifer missed this entirely, his eyes focused on Castiel’s angel blade and the determination on their faces. “Ah, ah, ah,” said Lucifer. “At moments like this, it’s all about ambiance.” Lucifer snapped his fingers and music started playing - Heaven Must Be Missing an Angel. He started to dance, mocking them. 

Castiel lunged for Lucifer, and Lucifer grabbed him while Dean tended to Sam. “I can beat the Darkness. Me. Only me,” he said. “Who are these two? They’re a couple of apes. You know I’m right, Castiel. You know it!”

“ _Never speak ill of the Winchesters to me, Brother.”_

Castiel struggled away from Lucifer. “You wanna play that way?” Lucifer taunted, and punched him repeatedly in the face. He was fighting all of them at once, and winning. 

Castiel could feel his head caving in, and his chest…

And then Lucifer stood over him, foot on Castiel’s angel blade, red eyes staring into blue.

“So, last words,” said his older brother.

“ _Can you really beat her?”_ Castiel asked him telepathically.

_“I can,”_ Lucifer answered.

He and the Winchesters had taken down Lucifer before… they could do it again.

_“Then yes,”_ said Castiel.

The white overwhelmed him.


	16. Radio Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 11, Part 3

It had been a narrow escape from Lucifer’s cage. 

Afterward, Dean had hoped that Castiel would jump into the Impala with him and Sam (or even into his awful Lincoln Continental) and accompany them back to the bunker. He realized that it had been more than a month since he’d really seen Castiel in person for more than five minutes, much less a lengthy conversation or sex.

Since he’d last seen Castiel, he had kissed Amara. He had confronted her outside of a church in which she’d massacred several people to get God’s attention.

The bond between them was too powerful to ignore. It had started, Dean understood, due to his Mark of Cain. Amara said, “You’re the one who set me free. It was destiny. You bore the Mark. I am the original Mark. You and I will be together.”

But she didn’t mean _together_ together, the way he and Cas were _together._ She meant she wanted to _consume_ him, or _eat_ him, or… something. 

With Castiel, Dean felt undeniable sexual attraction, and peaceful, but all of it was within something that, if he had had a different life, he would’ve labeled “normal.” With Amara, it was… explosive. Like being high on marijuana and completely at peace, but in an “ignorance is bliss” sort of way, with a horribly unpleasant aftertaste.

More than the guilt of allowing himself to be kissed by her, he felt the overwhelming fear of what their bond might mean.

He wanted, for possibly the first time in his life, to use his words appropriately. He wanted to tell Castiel about Amara, to explain himself, to beg for forgiveness, for _help_. He wanted to feel Castiel around him, in his bed. He wanted to know that the two people he cared about most, Castiel and Sam, were whole and solid and under one roof with him in the bunker.

Castiel seemed distant, though. Dean couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong, exactly. Was it the angel’s soft half-smile? The subtle, confident way he was walking? Had he always walked like that? Dean wasn’t sure what was wrong, but his hunter intuition told him that _something_ was wrong.

“You alright?” he asked.

“I think so,” said Castiel. “I will be.” And it was Castiel, the same Castiel he’d spoken to on the phone just yesterday. The same Castiel that had healed him after his smiting sickness earlier that day.

_And yet something is different… something is off…_

“You want me to give you a lift?” he asked.

“No, you two go on ahead. I’ll catch up,” said Castiel.

“Okay,” Dean agreed, walking back to the Impala.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

But Castiel didn’t catch up. He didn’t call, either, or text, nor did he return Dean’s calls or texts. Dean even went so far as to pray to the angel, but to no avail.

The next time Dean spoke with Castiel was a full week and a half later. Dean and Sam were on a case involving a banshee at a nursing home only 15 minutes away from the bunker, and Dean had nipped back home just long enough to gather some supplies.

As he walked down the stairs, he heard a noise, and it was Castiel. It looked like the angel was furiously going through the Men of Letter’s supply of old texts. “Cas? What the hell are you doing, man?”

Castiel froze, but did not turn to face him. He looked disheveled but sexy, wearing only his white button-down shirt and slacks. It was the first time Dean had seen him like that since he’d been living in the bunker full-time, and Dean immediately felt hot despite himself.

“Hello, Dean,” said Castiel.

“Right, yeah,” said Dean, relaxing but still wary. “We don't hear from you for days, you show up, you start wrecking the joint…!”

“I'm sorry,” said Castiel, sounding irritated.

“Okay,” Dean said, gathering his thoughts. “What are you doing?”

Castiel turned toward Dean finally, his hands full of paperwork. “Well, I'm... Looking for a spell, something to draw Amara out, but there's... There's nothing. I had her in my sights. She was hurt. I should have ended it.”

Dean was confused. “Wait. What? How?” Did he mean before they had faced Lucifer? Or something he had been doing in the week and a half since Castiel last spoke to them? Something was _off…_

“Well, I don't know,” said Castiel. “But there has to be something. And how many more chances are we gonna get?”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean agreed, because he knew better than anyone. He had tried to kill Amara, right after she had kissed him, but his knife had shattered. “Saying you're gonna kill is one thing, but... Actually doing it's something totally different.”

“What do you mean?” asked Castiel.

_It’s now or never. Who knows if I’ll even see Cas again soon._ “I've had two shots at Amara. I struck out both times,” he confessed.

“What are you talking about?” asked Castiel.

“I don't even know where to start,” he said.

“Dean... Tell me everything,” said Castiel, his blue eyes shining compassionately.

Dean did. He told Castiel everything, starting from his confrontation with Amara the previous month when she had still been in Crowley’s care, and ending with the kiss and their recent confrontation.

“She kissed you?” Castiel asked sharply. He was strangely clinical – not angry, exactly, but very serious.

“I didn’t expect it,” Dean said. “I’m sorry, Cas. It wasn’t-…”

“It’s no matter,” Castiel said, waving it off. 

_Is he… okay with that?_ Somehow that made Dean feel worse. It was true that they had never officially discussed that they were together, but he felt sure that Castiel should have known how much he meant to Dean.

“I tried to kill her,” he protested.

“Well, the two of you are connected somehow by the Mark,” said Castiel, searching through a box. He seemed far less upset by this than Dean had worried. Was he hiding his feelings, or was he really unconcerned that Dean had kissed someone else? 

“Yeah, no, it's, uh... It's more than that,” Dean confessed.

“Attraction?” Castiel asked, and he looked only curious. Meanwhile Dean knew his face looked guilty. “Oh, Dean,” Castiel said, shaking his head. Instead of being angry, he looked disappointed, which was somehow far worse.

“It’s nothing like-…” Dean protested.

“You don’t have to justify it to me,” Castiel said. “She’s the Darkness.”

“I know,” said Dean miserably. “I know. Okay? Whatever it is, a... attraction, connection... I got to tell you, man, it scares me. I don't know that I can stop it. I don't know that I can resist it.”

_That didn’t sound right._ He definitely wasn’t getting this across correctly. “Cas, you’ve got to understand. I’m not a cheater. I’m _in_ this, that’s why I’m telling you about it. But Amara…She doesn’t want to be _with_ me, she wants to… to _eat_ me, or _destroy_ me… it scares me. And her magic is too powerful for me to resist.”

 _I’m not a cheater. I’m in this, that’s why I’m telling you about it._ It was the first definite acknowledgement he’d ever given that he considered their _relationship_ exclusive, but Castiel didn’t even bat an eye.

“Hey, it scares me, too,” he said, laying an arm on Dean’s. “But we will find out what this is, I promise,” said Castiel. “In the end, it may help draw her out. This could be a good thing.” 

Dean wasn’t a fan of chick flick moments, but an “I’m _in_ this, too,” wouldn’t have gone amiss, he thought resentfully. But Castiel was focused on the problem at hand, and that was normal, for Castiel.

Dean’s cell phone rang. Annoyed, he walked away from Castiel to follow up on a question Sam had about their current case. He had to head back to the nursing home to prepare for the banshee’s next feeding time that night. It was getting late already. He hated the thought of leaving Castiel here at the bunker, in the middle of _this_ conversation _._ But there were lives at stake. “I'm on my way,” he said, ending the call.

“Cas, I’ve got to get back to Sam,” Dean said apologetically. “Listen, about what we talked about, let's just keep that between you and me... Till we know more, okay?”

“Dean, that's not --…” began Castiel.

“Cas, just...trust me,” said Dean.

“All right,” said Castiel. “But the next time you face Amara, you won't be alone.”

“Thanks, Cas,” said Dean as he turned to leave, still feeling unsettled. Usually talking with Castiel made him feel better, but something about this conversation was strange. _I don’t have the time right now to guess. I wish he would stay and we could work together…_

He turned abruptly to find the angel still watching him. “It’d be nice if you could stick around more, Cas,” he said, moving forward to kiss Castiel good-bye.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Castiel exclaimed, jumping backward.

Dean dropped his hands immediately in surprise and moved backward himself, confused.

“Don’t you think you should figure out this whole… Amara thing before you go kissing me?” Castiel asked.

Dean felt as though the bottom had dropped out from under him. _What?_ Since when had Castiel not been comfortable with a good-bye kiss in private? It’d been something they’d done for months now, almost a year…

“I just… look, Dean,” Castiel was saying. “Now that the Darkness is out… I don’t have time for all of these… human… things. Okay?”

Dean staggered back from the words. _Human_ things? Since _when?_

“Fine, Cas,” he said, hurt. “Just… I get it. Whatever.” _It figures. As soon as I’m finally trying to talk about things, he leaves._

Castiel reached out for him, but Dean flinched back. “I’m just going to be in Heaven and off the grid for awhile,” Castiel explained. “Just think of it as a chance to be with other people while I’m away.”

Dean almost fired back, “But I don’t want to be with other people!”

He realized, not a moment too soon, that this sounded whiny, and _human,_ and it also sounded like something Dean Winchester would _never_ say.

He wanted very much to punch Castiel. 

“Yeah, Cas,” said Dean. “It’s… it’s cool, I get it.”

Unable to think of anything else to say, Dean stomped out of the bunker and went to find Sam.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean had known that the banshee’s pattern was to go after the “most vulnerable” person in the nursing home. Although he hadn’t foreseen that this would be him, when he first heard the banshee’s screams, he somehow wasn’t surprised.

During the few moments when he allowed himself to think about Castiel, it felt like something deep inside him had been ripped out and stomped on. Of course Castiel would leave. Why would he stay, after all? Dean was _human_ , and a sorry human at that. It had taken Dean three and a half years to finally verbally commit to a relationship, and in the very same breath he’d admitted to kissing another… entity. Ultimately, he couldn’t be entirely sure if Castiel had truly ended their relationship because he no longer wanted to be saddled with a _human_ , or if it was really because he was angry about Amara.

…”I mean, Banshees go after the vulnerable, right?” Sam asked after the hunt. “So why did it go after you?”

_Because I’m fucking pathetic._

“You're overthinking it,” Dean said, struggling to keep his voice even. “It was going after Mildred, it saw my gold blade, acted out of self-defense. Simple.”

“Yeah, you're probably right,” said Sam, and Dean knew he wasn’t fooled in the slightest.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean barely slept the first night after Cas left, but something nagged at him. Dean prided himself in not being caught up in “chick flick” moments, but even so, he was surprised at how much this “break-up” didn’t feel… it didn’t feel… he didn’t _understand_ it.

Dean tried to sort through his whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. He was lonely, because Castiel had left him, _just like everyone else._

He was sad, because they were “taking a break.” Was Castiel as uncaring as he had seemed about Dean kissing Amara? Was he jealous? He had told Dean “I love you”, and asked him to bottom… Perhaps he was simply tired of attempting a relationship with a human who couldn’t even say the word “relationship”.

But Castiel’s actions in the past, as long as Dean had known him, didn’t match up with his recent actions.

With a sudden bolt of understanding, Dean realized that more than anything else, he was angry, because _something wasn’t right._

Dean thought back on his relationship with Castiel over the past few months. There had been tension, certainly, and it had been a little strained. There was the fact that Castiel hadn’t been able to leave the house for the longest time due to what Dean had been fairly certain was some form of PTSD, and their brief disagreement over Metatron when he returned. There was that question about bottoming, of course, and the time he had pretended to be asleep when Castiel had said “I love you.” 

Still, until recently, he felt that he and Castiel had been, mostly, on the same page. Castiel had considered it his duty to do whatever was necessary to end Amara, and Dean understood that better than anyone. They had kept in touch by phone or video chatted every other day, if not every day, during Castiel’s absence from the bunker. They had even tried cybersex a few times, with admittedly varying results. (Castiel was overly verbose, which was either a gigantic mood-killer or a major turn-on, depending on the situation.) 

Dean flipped back through his log of texts and calls with Castiel. 

**1.14.15: Text to Castiel: Crowley found Rowena. We’re visiting. I’ll call after.** at 1:31 PM

 **1.14.15: Call from Castiel:** 3 minutes, at 1:45 PM

 **1.14.15: Call from Castiel:** missed call, at 8:36 PM

 **1.14.15: Text from Castiel: Dean, did you meet up with Rowena?** at 8:37 PM

 **1.14.15: Video call to Castiel:** 47 minutes, at 9:24 PM

**1.16.15: Text from Castiel: Dean, I may have found something interesting.** at 4:35 PM

 **1.16.15: Call to Castiel:** 33 minutes, at 6:38 PM

**1.17.15: Text from Castiel: In regards to our conversation yesterday.** at 9:34 AM

 **1.17.15: Text from Castiel:** picture attached, at 9:34 PM

 **1.17.15: Video call to Castiel:** 28 minutes, at 9:35 PM

 **1.17.15: Text from Castiel:** **I like these chats, Dean.** at 10:04 PM

 **1.17.15: Text from Castiel:** **I’d like them better in person (;** at 10:04 PM

**1.19.15: Text to Castiel: Dude, did you see the church?** at 8:25 PM

 **1.19.15: Text from Castiel: Dean, What are you talking about?** at 8:25 PM

 **1.19.15: Text to Castiel:** video attached, 8:26 PM

 **1.19.15: Call from: Castiel:** 28 minutes, at 8:26 PM

 **1.19.15: Video call to Castiel:** 18 minutes, at 11:51 PM

**1.20.15: Call from Castiel:** missed call, at 9:38 AM

 **1.20.15: Text from Castiel: Hey Dean, Sam is trying to reach you. Rowena is ready to go to the cage, he says.** at 9:38 AM

 **1.20.15: Call to Castiel:** 7 minutes, at 10:37 AM

 **1.20.15: Call to Castiel:** missed call, at 11:49 AM

**1.21.15: Text to Castiel: Hey man, you seemed weird today after the cage. You sure you’re okay?**

**1.22.15: Call to Castiel:** missed call, at 11:13 PM

**1.23.15: Text to Castiel: Earth to Cas…** at 10:21 AM

**1.25.15: Text to Castiel: Dude?** at 2:41 PM

**1.27.15: Call to Castiel:** missed call, at 3:30 PM

Dean took a moment to appreciate the pictures, none of which were appropriate, before frustration overwhelmed him again. Something had happened around the time of the cage. 

He tried to call Castiel again, but, of course, there was no answer.

 _“I’m just going to be in Heaven and off the grid for awhile,”_ he had said. But that didn’t make any sense either. Last time Dean had checked, Castiel wasn’t exactly welcome in Heaven.

The absences and lack of communication was one thing, Dean reasoned, but combined with Castiel’s odd behavior the last time they had seen each other…

No, there was _definitely_ something _off_ about Castiel.

Dean decided to pray one more time. “ _Cas, man, if you’ve got your ears on, I don’t know what’s going on. If you could drop by for a chat, I would really appreciate it.”_

Still, there was nothing.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

A few days later, Sam and Dean got a call from Claire asking for help with a vampire case. 

Dean had a feeling that Sam had a plan to corner him and attempt a heart-to-heart in the Impala. In all honesty, Dean was surprised that Sam had held out this long. Just that morning alone, he had snapped at Sam for knocking too loudly on his door too early in the morning, for drinking the last of the coffee, and for putting a pair of headphones in to listen to a podcast halfway through a Led Zeppelin song.

Sure enough, halfway to North Dakota, Sam turned down the radio and adopted his “let’s talk about feelings” face.

“Dean… I know you don’t like these conversations, but lately you’ve been sort of… stomping around the bunker, and-…”

Fuck this. “Cas and I broke up,” he said matter-of-factly.

Sam looked shocked. “Really? When?” He paused for a second, then added, “Why?”

Dean shrugged. “When I ran into him while you were at the nursing home with the Banshee.”

Sam continued to stare at him, and Dean knew his brother wouldn’t be satisfied without a full explanation. “Dude, I don’t know what happened,” he said, annoyed. “We were fine, y’know? But then after the cage, he went radio silent for a week. Then I find him in the bunker, out of nowhere, and he tells me he’s working on something to draw Amara out. Then he said we needed to go our separate ways so we can ‘figure out this whole Amara thing,’ whatever the hell that means.”

“You didn’t… do, or say, anything that made him mad?” Sam prodded gently.

“Not everything’s my fault, Sammy,” Dean snapped, remembering his kiss with Amara.

“Dude, I’m not trying to antagonize you,” Sam said, more gently than Dean probably deserved. “I’m just trying to figure out what happened. I mean, you guys have been to Hell together, _and_ Purgatory…”

“That’s what’s weird,” said Dean. “Before the cage, we were fine, you know, like… a normal… whatever we were.”

“Spare me the details,” said Sam, rolling his eyes.

“And then after the cage… nada. Zip. And there was absolutely _no warning.”_

“Come to think of it,” Sam said thoughtfully, “Cas hasn’t spoken to me since the cage, either. And we don’t talk nearly as often as you two do, but… it’s odd that I haven’t heard from him at all.”

“Exactly!” said Dean, more enthusiastic than he thought he would’ve been about additional evidence for his theory.

Sam was silent for a moment. Finally he said, “Cas has had times where he’s been radio silent before, and-…”

“-And it’s always meant trouble,” reminded Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This break up was so incredibly hard to navigate within the scope of not being able to subtract anything that was said, only additions! They had to break up, because Dean sleeps with some girl in the next episode and I wasn’t writing infidelity. But, the end result is something I’m extremely proud of.


	17. That's Not Cas!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 11, Part 4

Dean hooked up with a buxom blond girl on Valentine’s Day. It hadn’t exactly been a planned hook-up, but he was there, and she was there, and Dean was horny, and it was “Unattached Drifter’s Christmas.” By now, Sam knew better than to say anything more than teasingly calling him “classy.” Dean had finally stopped stomping around the bunker and snapping at Sam for every minor transgression, and he assumed that Sam was refraining from asking him about Castiel in order to maintain the bunker’s current peaceful atmosphere.

Castiel reappeared sooner than Dean expected, ironically. All Dean had to do was pray to him explaining that they had a lead on a God-powered weapon but needed his help to obtain it. When they called him two minutes later, he finally answered.

He was all business, and hatched a plan to take Dean back in time to retrieve the weapon, which had been lost at sea when the USS Bluefin submarine had been attacked by Nazis.

As was usual for the Winchesters, the plan had almost immediately gone awry. Castiel was kicked off the submarine by angel warding. The Germans had attacked, but Dean and a Woman of Letters named Delphine managed to erase the angel warding in time for Castiel to retrieve Dean, and the Hand of God, at the last possible moment.

Upon returning to the bunker, Castiel hadn’t even removed his hand from Dean’s shoulder before Sam shouted, “Dean - THAT'S NOT CAS!”

Dean stared at Sam, then at Castiel. A sheepish, gleeful look crossed Castiel’s face. It was entirely foreign, and yet eerily familiar…

_The cage. Castiel had been acting strange since the cage…_ And Dean understood. _Lucifer._ Lucifer had taken possession of Castiel in the cage.

“Cat’s out!” Lucifer said, and he threw Dean across the table. He landed on the floor on the other side, against the wall.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The Hand of God didn’t work, as Delphine had used it to sink the German ship back in World War II, and apparently it was all used up. The brothers had barely managed to escape Lucifer thanks to a well-timed angel banishing sigil written in blood on the bunker wall by Sam. 

Dean and Sam immediately began redoing the angel wards on the bunker, which they had been admittedly lazy about because of Cas’ presence there.

“What happened?” Dean asked Sam when the new warding was finished. He flopped tiredly into one of the library chairs, reaching for the whiskey. 

“Lucifer tried to kill me,” Sam said, sitting next to Dean thoughtfully. “Then Cas took control. He said… he said we needed Lucifer, to get you back, because he can’t time travel.”

“Damn it!” Dean exclaimed. “I _knew_ something was wrong with Cas!”

_I should’ve tried harder… should’ve seen the signs…_

Anger overtook him, and he banged his hand on the table, nearly upending the whiskey. “Why the hell would he do this?” he exclaimed.

“He said it’s the only way to beat Amara,” said Sam, quietly.

“No!” exclaimed Dean. “There has to be another way!” He stood up and grabbed the whiskey, intending to escape to his room where he could think, alone.

“Dean,” Sam said, and he stood up too, with the heir of someone who has one last thing to say. “When Cas took control for a second… he said to tell you he’s sorry. And he loves you.”

It felt suddenly like a dark, black hole was swallowing Dean, and he was reminded suddenly of the bars of the cage in Hell. He had a sudden urge to throw the whiskey bottle against the wall, to watch it shatter like the last remaining shards of his sanity. He thought better of it (it was good whiskey, after all, and he was going to need it) and stomped to his bedroom.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It was well into April, nearly two months, before Dean saw Lucifer or Castiel again. 

The first night, he drank himself into a stupor.

Afterward, he began to make plans on how to get Cas back. He methodically worked through the bunker’s books on angels and archangels, discarding them angrily into piles behind him as he worked.

Finally, in early April, Dean, Sam, Crowley, and Rowena worked out a decent plan to trap Lucifer, which predictably went almost immediately awry. Lucifer was simply too powerful for any trap they knew how to set. Crowley (also predictably) disappeared as soon as things began to go south, and Dean and Sam were left to face Lucifer’s wrath.

“Have a seat,” Lucifer commanded, and Sam and Dean were both forced to sit on the pews of the abandoned church they had chosen for Lucifer’s trap.

“As much as I get a giggle out of you two, and I do, there comes a time when every relationship has... run its course,” Lucifer said. “So...” He had used the word “relationship” for a reason, Dean understood.

Then Dean felt himself begin to choke. He began to struggle and gasp for breath. He was going to die here, killed by his angel…

_Castiel, help! Castiel, I - …_

Suddenly, there was an explosion, and a gaping hole appeared in the church. Dean was able to breathe again suddenly. When he had collected himself, he looked, terrified, to realize that someone had blown a hole in the wall.

_Amara!_

“Oh, Lucifer,” she said, entering slowly through the hole she had made. She looked just like he remembered her: powerful, and seductive, and terrifying in her flowing black dress that looked somehow like robes. “Dear nephew, my, how you've changed. I was tracking her when she left my side.” Amara pointed to Rowena.

“You were safely sealed away,” said Lucifer. “You're gonna wish you'd stayed there.” He held up the Horn of Joshua, the God-weapon with which they had attempted to bribe Lucifer to confront them, and it glowed red as he absorbed its power. Dean wanted to look away but felt powerless to do so. Lucifer’s eyes turned white, and he conjured a ball of fire into his hand, aiming it at Amara.

There was a blinding white light, and Dean thought sure she must have been obliterated. When the light began to dim, however, Amara was still standing there, seemingly untouched. She lifted her hand and drew Lucifer effortlessly toward her. He dropped the Horn of Joshua, and she cupped her hand on his face. “I think you and I need to have a nice, long chat,” she said. Lucifer writhed in her grip.

“Cas?!” Dean yelled desperately.

Amara turned toward him. Then, in a ball of white light, they were gone.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean remained drunk for, more or less, the entire week after Castiel was taken by Amara.

Sam finally drug him on a case in the middle of Colorado, where he was forced to sober up quickly or risk being eaten by odd, green-eyed zombie monsters called the “chitters”, or, as Dean preferred, “junkless.”

The “chitters” were vanquished relatively easily between the brothers and another set of hunters that, surprisingly, identified themselves as a gay couple. After they had resolved the situation with the “chitters”, the couple had decided to retire as hunters and start a new life down south.

Soon after beginning their drive back to Kansas, Dean recognized the tell-tale signs of “Sam Winchester wants to talk” – clearing throat, glancing at Dean, removing headphones. He should’ve bought some liquor and let Sam drive.

“Cesar and Jesse were cool,” Sam said nonchalantly.

“Mm-hm,” he said, purposefully avoiding Sam’s eye. He reached for the radio, but Sam preempted him by reaching for his sunglasses and knocking Dean’s hand away. He didn’t even apologize. Dean gritted his teeth and wished for whiskey.

“Reminded me of you and Cas, a bit,” said Sam conversationally.

“They’re nothing like me and Cas,” Dean said, suddenly angrier than the situation warranted.

“They could be,” Sam pointed out, finally abandoning the façade that this was meant to be a “just shooting the breeze” sort of conversation.

Dean searched around for words, which, as usual completely escaped him. “I’m not gay, for one.” He felt a sharp stab of unexplained guilt.

Sam looked incredulous. “No, you’re bisexual, dumbass,” he said. “And neither is Cas, for that matter. He’s an angel, and has no technical gender beyond his vessel.”

_There is not enough liquor in the world for this conversation._

“I’m – fuck you,” said Dean. He had a sudden vision in his head of himself and Castiel holding hands and having drinks with the hunters they had met today, with Castiel explaining, “Dean is bisexual, and I’m an angel and have no technical gender beyond that of my vessel.” This daydream made him less uncomfortable than he would’ve thought.

Sam fixed Dean with a stare. “ _Why_ won’t you talk about it?” Sam asked. “Why will you _never_ talk about it, even now? Don’t you think after all of this, Cas deserves - …”

Sam was lucky Dean was still driving, because he honestly might’ve slugged him. “They’re _nothing_ like us, because we don’t get a happy ending!” Dean screamed at his brother. “And because Cas can’t even trust me enough to give me a heads up before he goes and gets himself possessed by the God damned devil! _Damn_ it!” It was the first time he had finally put into words one of the things that had bothered him so much about the situation with Castiel.

This time when he turned up the radio, Sam didn’t protest. Dean’s mind whirred all the way back to the bunker, however, and it was a long time before he slept that night.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

God had returned. Just when things had seemed most hopeless, God had finally, _finally_ returned.

Actually, Dean felt that God was less than impressive. As it turned out, he had been hiding in – of _all_ people – Chuck the prophet the whole time. Dean had never had much faith in God or the Holy Trinity, and God (or “Chuck”, as he preferred to be called) did nothing to improve this. He was less “fiery wrath”, and more “singing obnoxious songs in the shower.” He was less “divine forgiveness” and more “sitting in the War Room in his underwear eating Chinese food.” 

Eventually, with the help of a new prophet, a professor named Donatello, Dean was able to distract Amara long enough for Sam, Donatello, and Metatron to rescue Castiel from Amara. It was a close shave, and Metatron even sacrificed himself to the effort, but God came through in the end.

Afterward, the brothers had an entirely different problem. Getting God and Lucifer to work together toward a common goal was no easy feat. Lucifer was ever the petulant child, and God the long-absent, stubborn father.

During that period of time, there were moments when Dean found himself almost wishing that Amara had killed Lucifer, no matter how much they really did need him for the coming fight against Amara. Watching Castiel’s body speak with Lucifer’s voice and Lucifer’s mannerisms made Dean want to throw up. It was as if someone had taken the corpse of someone dear to him and re-animated it, and it struck him as absolutely, horribly, sickeningly _wrong._

Lucifer’s obvious hatred for the brothers was another major problem. God stopped Lucifer from doing his worst, however. On one occasion, Lucifer tried to kill both brothers, which God prevented effortlessly. 

In response, Lucifer became sneakier. As the group of them made the last preparations for their battle with Amara, Lucifer struck again, surprising Dean on his way out of the bathroom. “So Cas knows you… _biblically_ ,” he said. “What’s that like?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Dean snapped, continuing down the hallway.

“Oh, I _do_ know,” said Lucifer. “I’ve got it all up here.” He tapped his head, falling into step with Dean, who was making his way down the hallway as quickly as possible. “What I’m getting is that you’re slightly closeted, _extremely_ repressed, and you take Castiel for granted at every possible opportunity.”

Dean quickened his pace through the hallway, guilt lancing through him sharply. He knew Lucifer was trying to bait him, and he was determined to get away from the angel before he did something really, really stupid.

With relief, he finally fit his hand over the doorknob to his room, anxious to get Lucifer on the other side of a door from him as soon as possible.

Suddenly the door disappeared, and Dean was left backed into a corner, the wall of the hallway suddenly hard and unyielding. 

Lucifer smiled, and it looked maniacal, out of place in Castiel’s usually taciturn face. “I’m feeling all cuddly, with Dad being here and all. So I’m going to do my good deed for this century and remind you that even though you may be the Righteous Man, you’re still just a man who is trying to play baseball with an angel.” He paused. “Haha, that works, because you won’t catch!”

Hot, seething anger overtook Dean. “Stay out of his head!” he snapped ferociously. “You don’t know anything about it!” He realized too late that he’d risen to Lucifer’s bait.

Lucifer’s look changed pitying. “The sad truth is that _I do._ I mean, _my father_ , Dean! Cas gave up _everything_ for you! He rebelled for you, _fell_ for you, _died_ for you!” Lucifer grinned, and it looked foreign and twisted on Castiel’s features. “Heh heh, I exploded him.”

Dean swung, backed into a corner by the Devil, with such little warning that it was a surprise even to him. His fist collided with Lucifer’s – _Castiel’s_ – face, where it did absolutely nothing. Pain lanced up Dean’s arm.

With one look, Dean felt himself flattened up against the wall of the hallway, this time with magic. “Now look, you little pissant,” said Lucifer. He crowded in close to Dean, so close that he could smell him. He smelled like fire and like nails sliding down a chalkboard, and Dean wondered how he could still look like Castiel when he smelled and _felt_ so different.

“Just because Dad put on my handcuffs doesn’t mean you’re suddenly tough shit.” He moved back infinitesimally. 

“I swear to _Dad_. I don’t have to look in Castiel’s head, because he’s practically shouting it, all the time. It’s always, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, _Dean._ This is why angels aren’t supposed to fall in love. It’s disgusting. It’s like the ill-begotten first crush of a 12-year-old mixed with the loyalty of a kicked puppy.

“Castiel, the poor fool.” He shook his head, shooting Dean another pitying look. “He used to be a Commander, ya know? He used to wield all of the power of the Heavenly Host, before he became your little _bitch.”_

Dean thought he might break Lucifer’s magical hold on him with his anger alone, but instead the angel moved impossibly closer. “Castiel has given you everything he has, but you’re broken, even more than the rest of your species. I might be evil, but all the better to recognize it, Dean.

“Humans ruin everything good in the world, and you more than most. You know that, don’t you?” The Devil’s voice was soft, snakelike. “Every day, he becomes more _human_ , like the very touch of you is contagious.”

Finally, the Devil retracted, leaving Dean feeling hollow and guilty. “Leave my brother alone, before you ruin him too.”

Then Lucifer disappeared. Dean’s door still did not reappear.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

They hit Amara, the Darkness, with everything they had. The witches helped, led by Rowena. The demons, led by Crowley, pelted her from all sides. The angels gave her their best smiting, and Lucifer drove the Lance of Michael between her shoulders. 

Things were going well until God – _Chuck_ – tried to cage her again. Fearful and enraged, she turned the tables on them, directing all of her anger at Chuck. When she had finished, God himself lay on the ground, dying.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel was free - _free_ , for the first time in months. What had happened? Had they won? He felt a hand on his shoulder, and knew instinctively that it was Dean. A wave of relief shot through him. Dean was still alive - he was okay.

“Cas? Hey, is that you?” Dean asked.

“Lucifer is gone,” Castiel said. He felt drained and tired. “Amara ripped him from my body.”

“To where?” Dean asked.

“I don't know,” he admitted, and at that moment, he didn’t really care, either. He knew it would be his responsibility to round Lucifer up in the end, but after months riding shotgun he allowed himself this short respite. Amara was more important, anyway. He allowed Dean to help him up. He relished Dean’s touch. Even though he knew the battle was far from over, for a moment, he allowed himself to feel pleasure.

_Freedom._

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The sun was dying. Lucifer, the angels, the demons, and even the witches had fought against Amara and lost, and now God, his beloved father, was dying. Castiel understood that without God, the Darkness would overwhelm everything.

His mind was still spinning when Dean talked him into joining him in the Impala for a beer run. It would soon be the end of the world, and so getting drunk seemed like the best idea. 

“How are you doing?” Dean asked, shaking Castiel out of his panicked musings. “You good? I mean, you know, the whole Lucifer thing.”

“I was just... so stupid,” Castiel sighed, voicing his feelings for the first time since he once again claimed possession of his vessel.

_So many mistakes._

“No, no, no,” Dean said. “It wasn't stupid. You were right. You were right to let Lucifer ride shotgun. Me and Sam wouldn't have done that.”

Castiel appreciated the sentiment, but it didn’t make him feel better. They had worked so hard to trap Lucifer, and yet now it was for nothing thanks to him. And besides…

“Well, it didn't work,” he said finally.

“No, but it was our best shot, and you stepped up,” said Dean.

“I was just trying to help,” said Castiel. 

“Well, and you do help, Cas,” Dean said to Castiel’s shock. These were end-of-the-world musings on Dean’s part, surely. _Dean is normally never so overtly kind and grateful._

“You know, sometimes me and Sam have got so much going on that we forget about everyone else.”

Somehow that stung more than it should have, though Castiel didn’t let on. But, obviously, Castiel rationalized. Of course Sam, and saving the world, came first. “Well, you do live exciting lives,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, that's one word for it,” Dean chuckled. “But you're always there, you know?” Dean looked sideways at Castiel. “You're the best friend we've ever had. You're our brother, Cas. I want you to know that.”

“Thank you,” said Castiel. He was touched, really. _The best friend we’ve ever had…_

Dean’s cell phone rang. It was Sam, and apparently he had an idea that might help save the world.

It was only as Castiel raced back to the bunker with Dean to save the world, yet again, that he thought, _I thought we were more than best friends?_

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

They had a plan. God said that Amara’s weakness was light, which made sense, really. They were going to end her. They had everything they would need, theoretically. A reaper named Billie had even shown up and provided thousands of souls, which had been harnessed into a bomb of light.

There was one very, very big problem. Castiel, ever the strategist, had seen it first, though he had been loathe to suggest the obvious solution. Finally, when he realized no one else was going to say anything, he spoke.

“We need somebody to get close to her, someone with a … personal connection,” he said.

It was a death sentence for Dean, of course… but not a permanent death, Castiel would make sure of it. God would have ideas, and even though he was dying, he still had more power in his little finger than Castiel did in his entire being. It wouldn’t be the first time Dean was brought back from the dead, or even the second time. It was odd, Castiel mused, the things he considered to be “all in a day’s work.”

He explained this to Dean before Rowena performed the spell to create the bomb, though he wasn’t sure Dean believed him. He supposed he didn’t help the situation with his own anxiety, still so uncharacteristic for an angel. 

Before Dean left to confront Amara, he requested to go to Mary Winchester’s gravesite. Castiel stood with Crowley, Chuck, and Rowena, silently watching the brothers give their respects to their mother.

“You’ll help me resurrect him. Right?” asked Castiel, turning at last to face the father he had still not officially met. 

He still had mixed feelings about him, if he was honest. There had been entire millennia where he would’ve killed whole worlds for just a moment with his father, but things were very different now.

“I’m not exactly in the best shape,” Chuck confessed, “but I suppose I could try. It won’t matter though, if -…” But Dean was moving toward them.

“Cas,” Dean said, taking his hand. “Take a walk with me.”

It wasn’t a walk so much as the two of them going behind a group of tall trees where Rowena and Crowley couldn’t see them. Sam could still see them from where he stood near Mary’s grave, but he looked away.

“Cas, man,” Dean said, and Castiel was surprised to see a small tear in his eye. “It’s always been you. You know that… right?”

“Of course, Dean,” said Castiel.

Dean leaned to kiss him, and it was just the faintest brush of lips, as though Dean refused to allow himself to get too tangled up. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more for you,” Dean said.

“Dean,” said Castiel, surprised. “You’ve always exceeded my expectations.” 

Dean gave him a small, grateful smile before he walked away to say his more public good-byes, but Castiel wasn’t done.

“Dean?” he said, following Dean over to where he had struck up a conversation with Chuck.

“Cas?” Dean said, surprised and awkward when Castiel pulled him into a hug. He hated “chick flick moments,” Castiel remembered too late.

“Okay. Okay,” Dean said hugging him back. “All right.”

Castiel stepped backward, realizing that Dean was embarrassed. “I could go with you,” he offered.

_I should be there in the end, like I was in the beginning._

“No, no, no,” Dean said. “No, I gotta do this alone.” He paused, and Castiel could tell he had more to say. “Listen, if – _when_ this works, Sam – he’s gonna be a mess. So look out for him, okay? Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Of course,” said Castiel, resisting the urge to hug Dean again.

“Thank you for everything,” Dean said, clapping him on the shoulder.

_This isn’t the end. This isn’t good-bye._

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

In a weird twist of fate – or, perhaps, by the will of God – Dean had managed to convince Amara that the human race was worth saving. Perhaps Castiel was right, and it _had_ to have been him. Either way, he felt nearly overwhelmed by relief.

Before they disappeared, Amara had told him, “Dean, you gave me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you.” Dean wondered what this meant, but he quickly resolved not to think about it. 

He would never understand cosmic deities.

Dean had some time to think as he trudged through a now-abandoned park in an effort to hitch a ride back to Kansas, or at least find someone who would let him borrow a phone. He had no idea where Chuck had transported him to to confront Amara, but he felt as though he’d already walked a mile. His phone was apparently worthless, which he attributed to interference from the thousands of souls he had been carrying inside him until Chuck had diffused him. Or, perhaps the diffusing itself had short-circuited his phone. Godly power tended to do that.

Either way, he had time to think. _Perhaps now I can take a break, spend some time with Sam and Castiel…_ After Purgatory there had been the trials, and then Abaddon, and then the Mark, and then the Darkness… but now he had put all of his demons back in the box, and they had corrected all of their mistakes –

_Well, except for Lucifer_. It was a strange life he led in which putting Lucifer back in the cage – _again –_ was almost a relief, after Amara.

Castiel would need help tracking down Lucifer, and perhaps Dean could finally prove to him that he was ready for a relationship, ready to actually use _words_ like, for example, “I love you…”

But who was he kidding? He was the worst thing possible for Castiel. 

_“Even though you may be the Righteous Man, you’re still just a man who is trying to play baseball with an angel,”_ Lucifer had said, wearing Castiel’s body. “ _He rebelled for you, fell for you, died for you! ... He used to be a Commander, you know? He used to wield all of the power of the Heavenly Host, before he became your little bitch. Every day, he becomes more human, like the very touch of you is contagious.”_

He remembered Castiel during his brief stint as a human two years prior, when he had kicked him out of the bunker at Gadreel’s request.

Lucifer was right, Dean realized as his heart seemed to clench and spasm. _I will only ever bring Castiel pain._

“Help!” Dean heard a woman shouting. “Help me!”

He ran toward the voice and then stopped short, stunned at the woman he saw.

“ _Mom?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castiel suggesting that Dean go to his death to beat the Darkness is incredibly out of character. I refuse to believe he didn’t have a back-up plan. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.


	18. Don't Leave, Not Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 12, Part 1

Castiel was eager to return to the bunker. Chuck had disappeared, and so had Dean, and he had no idea where either had gone. The bunker seemed the logical place to go to begin the process of tracing both. 

Sam seemed convinced that Dean was dead. The evidence did point that way, after all – the sun was no longer dying, and the world had been saved. Still, Castiel had more faith in Dean than he did in anyone else. If there was a way around dying, Dean would have found it. 

In the old days, Castiel would’ve simply sensed Dean’s presence in the world and flown to his side. Though he could sense through their bond whether or not Dean was year, he hadn’t been able to properly sense Dean’s exact location for years due to the Enochian warding carved into Dean’s ribs. Therefore, the bunker seemed the most logical place to start.

Besides, he had promised Dean he would watch over Sam.

Unfortunately, that promise was blown to smithereens as soon as he entered the bunker, and was banished by a British human woman with no explanation. By the time he managed to hitchhike back to the bunker from where he had landed, it was late into the night and he was irritated.

The bunker appeared abandoned, until a blond woman suddenly confronted him. There was something extremely familiar about her, though he couldn’t place it.  
“Hands in the air. Get on your knees,” she said gruffly.

“Who are you, and where is Sam?” Castiel snapped, not in the mood.

“Hands, now,” the blond woman demanded.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” yelled Dean, rounding the corner and addressing the blond woman. “It's okay. It's okay. He's a friend, all right? Hey, Cas.”

Relief washed over Castiel, and he ran forward to embrace Dean happily. “Dean!”

“Hey,” Dean said, and Castiel remembered too late how much he hated public displays of affection. “Hey. Okay. All right.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, finally letting go of him. “You're alive?” Thank God. _Or Chuck, perhaps._

“Yeah,” Dean answered. Castiel had a strong urge to continue to touch him and make sure he was real, but he was mindful of Dean’s hatred for public displays, and for the other woman in the room. 

_Who is this woman to Dean?_ She was obviously important to him, for her to have been let into the bunker willingly. _A lover?_ No. Something about that immediately seemed so wrong that Castiel knew it wasn’t true. _A hunter, certainly._ She was wearing some sort of charm that confused his senses.

“What about the bomb and the Darkness?” Castiel asked. “What happened?”

“I'll tell you everything,” said Dean. “Where is Sam?”

“He's not here,” said Castiel.

“Are you a hunter?” the blond woman interjected. He had absolutely no doubt that she meant him no harm, and also that she would not be a competitor for Dean’s affections. She was so _familiar…_

“No, I'm an angel,” Castiel said, at the same time as Dean answered, “He’s an angel.”

“Come again?”

“An Angel, with a-a capital ‘A,’” Dean answered. “You know, wings, harp.”

“No, I don't have a harp,” Castiel said, annoyed but only slightly. He was used to Dean’s teasing and his antiquated version of angels.

“This is Castiel,” Dean said, addressing the blond woman. “Cas, this is...Mary. Winchester.”

The pieces suddenly came together. “Your mother.” But how was this possible?

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, and it was obvious that he, too, was still somewhat in shock over the situation. “So, wait, uh, where – where is Sam? He's not answering his phone, there's blood on the floor. What's going on?”

“I don't know,” Castiel answered, following Dean’s eyes to a trail of blood on the floor. “We came back here, there was a woman waiting for us. She blasted me away. I don't know who she was. I don't know what happened to Sam.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean, Castiel, and Mary managed to use the local traffic cameras to track Sam. The car that kidnapped Sam had apparently taken him to a veterinary office, which was closed for lunch when they arrived. The three of them stopped for coffee while Dean made a list of phone calls.

Castiel watched him furtively. He was ecstatic that Dean was still alive, of course, but Sam’s kidnapping and the resurrection of Dean’s mother complicated things. He had known Dean long enough to understand that he wouldn’t want his mother to know that they were… whatever they were. 

_Are things still the same now that Lucifer is gone?_ They hadn’t really had a chance to discuss it since before Castiel had been possessed – not that Dean was ever willing to _discuss_ anything.

Right now none of it mattered, not until Sam was safe. But when Sam was safe again (as Castiel was sure he ultimately would be), what then? Surely Mary would want to stay with Dean and Sam at the bunker for awhile and get to know her sons again. Dean would be uncomfortable with having any sort of intimate relationship under the same roof, certainly.

And then there was Lucifer. Dean and Sam had gone to so much trouble to put Lucifer into the Cage, only to have Castiel come and let him back out again. It was Castiel’s job to make it right this time.

_Honestly, I don’t deserve Dean anyway._

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It had been one of the best evenings of Dean’s life. Sam had been successfully retrieved from the hands of a zealot representative of the British Men of Letters (apparently this was a thing). Castiel had healed him, and then the brothers had taken a nap in the Impala while Mary drove them home. They had ordered food from a local restaurant, and eaten cheeseburgers and pie together, as a family, for the first time since he was four years old.

Afterward, Mary had retreated to her newly-claimed room in the bunker, and Sam had gone off to do “Sam things” (which Dean assumed meant that he was either masturbating, something nerdy, or both). Dean had gone to find Castiel, who had been absent for the family dinner. He worried that the angel might have packed up and left already (for who knows where), but instead he was in the bunker library pacing and speaking fluent Russian on the phone. 

Dean headed to the kitchen to get a beer, and there he spent a melancholy couple of hours drinking beer while looking at pictures of his mother.

Now filled with liquid courage, Dean headed to the library once more. This time, Castiel was off the phone, and flipping through websites on Sam’s computer that looked like they were written in Chinese.

Castiel looked up and smiled, gesturing at him to sit down.

_I missed you. I love –… I love - … I don’t deserve you._

“Cas, man, why didn’t you come to dinner?” Dean asked.

Castiel tipped his head quizzically. “I don’t eat,” he reminded Dean.

“Cas-…” Dean began in frustration, but the angel continued. “And, I wanted to give you and Sam some privacy with your mother.”

The family dinner _had_ been nice. _But I missed you, Cas_. “You’re our family too, Cas,” he said, and Castiel gave one of his rare smiles. It was a soppy smile, as though the sun shone out of Dean’s ass, and Dean felt both uncomfortable and warmed by it.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, taking a seat next to the angel.

“Trying to find traces of Lucifer,” Castiel said, and just like that, the happy feeling that Dean had had all evening disappeared.

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” Dean asked, trying and failing to keep the accusation out of his tone.

“Lucifer is my fault,” Castiel said, turning defensive. “I-…”

“I’ll go with you,” said Dean immediately.

“You can’t,” Castiel said, holding Dean’s gaze. “Your mother just came back from the dead. You need to stay here with her.”

_Damn it._

He was right, and Dean knew it. Part of him didn’t even _want_ to go with Castiel. But it would mean that, yet again, he and Castiel would be separated. Yet again, duty before happiness.

He sighed. “Cas, is it always going to be like this?”

Castiel looked surprised, then closed Sam’s laptop and faced him fully. “Dean, what is wrong?”

Dean gulped, realizing suddenly that he had blundered into a conversation that he really didn’t have the skills to finish. He hadn’t had enough sleep, and everything kind of blurred together: _Castiel breaking up with him, finding out that Castiel had been possessed by Lucifer, Amara torturing Castiel._ Then, in just the past week: _Lucifer’s impassioned speech about how he didn’t deserve Castiel, their fight against Amara, his good-bye to Castiel, his mother coming back from the dead, Sam’s kidnapping._ The memories swirled in his head and made him want to throw up, and he groaned, putting his head in his hands.

Castiel laid a hand on him, steadying him. He could feel a small tendril of Castiel’s grace wind its way through him, a healing, calming touch. They stared at each other in silence for a second, and Castiel squeezed Dean’s arm, smiling comfortingly. 

_Missed you. Want you. Need you._

Dean moved closer, putting a hand on Castiel’s knee. He needed… he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t sex, exactly, or at least, it wasn’t _only_ sex. He needed to touch him, to be close to him… His gaze settled on Castiel’s lips and he realized how desperately he wanted to kiss them. As gently as he could manage, he moved toward Castiel and covered his mouth with his own.

Castiel relaxed into the kiss, a rhythm they both knew well, and their tongues danced back and forth. The hand that was on Dean’s shoulder moved to his hair. Castiel moaned, “Dean,” and the sound shot straight to his groin. 

Apparently, this was all it took for their tender moment to turn into something more. A wall of desire hit Dean so suddenly it was like being bowled over. He could feel himself hardening. He intensified the kiss, moving his hand steadily up Castiel’s leg. 

Castiel abandoned this plan altogether and pulled him forward by the lapels. Dean ended up sitting on Castiel’s lap, the angel’s chair creaking under the weight. Castiel mouthed up his neck, and Dean threw his head back, allowing himself tiny thrusts helplessly against Castiel’s stomach. It had been _so long_ , and his body sang with heat and longing.

“Dean,” Castiel moaned again, and now Dean could feel Castiel’s own erection against his, and the chair they were sitting on gave an almighty creak as the angel resituated and thrusted upward.

The creak of the chair brought Dean out of his cloud of desire long enough to remember that he was now living under the same roof as his mother, and that was just _not_ okay. 

“Impala,” Dean said, climbing regretfully off of Castiel’s lap.

Castiel shot him a curious look, but didn’t argue.

“We’ll find a quiet place,” Dean said by way of explanation.

“I’ll drive,” said Castiel. “Your level of intoxication, while not nearly dangerous, is above the legal limit.”

“Talk dirty to me,” Dean grumbled, but handed over the keys.

Dean had a one-track mind now. Cas seemed to be on board with sex, and that was a language that Dean could speak. They had barely left the bunker when Dean said, “Pull over here.”

Castiel obediently parked the Impala under a row of trees, but shot a sidelong look at Dean. “Why---ggggaah!” Dean had grabbed his slightly-flagging erection, causing the angel to start and bump his head against the back of the seat. Dean massaged Castiel’s groin, kneading slowly, and Castiel continued to let out little groans as his gaze turned fully toward Dean.

Their lips met hungrily, and Castiel turned toward Dean, pinching Dean’s hand between his legs. Castiel’s hand shot to the back of Dean’s neck and pulled him impossibly closer, and their tongues battled for dominance. It was bruising in its intensity, and Dean let out a full body shiver with how much he wanted Castiel in that moment.

_God yes._

Castiel had turned toward Dean so much that his hand, still stuck and kneading enthusiastically between Castiel’s legs, was losing feeling from the awkward angle. Dean pulled his hand away, and Castiel chased it with his groin, letting out a groan of indignation. The angel looked around the car quickly and took stock of the situation, and then, with no warning, hauled himself across Dean in one move. Once his knees were successfully on either side of Dean’s, he latched onto the pulse point on Dean’s neck, his ass rubbing against the passenger side dashboard.

“Cas!” Dean groaned in surprise and pleasure, and now it was his turn to arch off the seat of the Impala, seeking friction. Castiel responded with a downward thrust, and pleasure spiked through him. From somewhere to the right he heard a snap of fingers, and Castiel’s trenchcoat disappeared.

“I love when you do that,” Dean groaned, his hands finally finding a firm grip on Castiel’s ass. 

“Want me to do the rest too?” Castiel said against his ear, and Dean rubbed upward against Castiel in response.

They were naked a second later, just as Castiel moved downward and Dean moved upward. Their cocks rubbed together in the close quarters, and Castiel let out a filthy grunt into Dean’s ear. 

_Not enough, not enough…_

Dean’s right hand abandoned Castiel’s ass in order to grasp both of their cocks. A sharp sting traveled up his arm as he realized his hand had been smashed between Castiel’s ass and the dashboard so hard that it had left a matching crease on his skin. The angle was wrong, as there wasn’t realistically enough room to get a hand between them, so Dean abandoned the pursuit. He skimmed his hand along the back of Castiel’s thigh until he reached his ass, this time below the dashboard.

Castiel let out a small spasm when Dean’s finger reached the furled muscle of his opening, already bigger than normal but still somewhat dry. “Dammit Cas,” Dean said, thrusting upward. Their cocks rubbed together and caught in just the right way, producing maddening friction. “In my pants, I had-…”

Dean felt an odd texture against his left shoulder, and it was the small bottle of lubricant, held up by Castiel’s right hand. 

There was an odd moment where Castiel and Dean both attempted to lean farther back but couldn’t so that Dean could grab some lubricant. Dean was ultimately forced to pass the lubricant from his left to his right hand just in front of their faces. Castiel chose that moment to place a small bite to Dean’s clavicle, which distracted him enough that he accidentally shot way more lubricant than was needed all over his hand, and even a little on Castiel’s upper chest.

“God dammit Cas,” he grumbled, and Castiel looked up from his neck long enough to give him a giant grin, combined with a thrust that had Dean seeing stars.

Dean responded by shoving two now-lubricated fingers into Castiel, nailing his prostate on one try.

“Dean!” Castiel moaned into Dean’s ear. “I want – !” 

Castiel tried to pull backward and, once again, found the unyielding dashboard. _This isn’t going to work…_

“Cas, get out,” Dean said breathlessly. “On the – on the hood.”

Castiel didn’t need telling twice. He reached next to him for his trench coat, then jumped out of the Impala completely without the reservations that a normal person would have about being buck naked outside. It was a shaded and out-of-the-way area where they would almost certainly have no guests, but Dean still took more care when he extricated himself from his Baby and followed Castiel around the front of the Impala.

Castiel’s erection stood proud as he laid the trenchcoat on the hood of the Impala. 

“You’d better not dent her,” Dean said, coming up behind him and running his hands up Castiel’s back.

“If I dent her, I’ll fix her,” he said, and he reached around to clamp both hands on Dean’s ass, shoving Dean’s erection fully against his behind.

“ _God_ , Cas!”

“Given the circumstances, you really need to change your go-to exclamations during intercourse,” Castiel commented, but even this was husky and belied how turned on the angel actually was. He leaned over against the hood, grabbing Dean’s own erection with one hand and lining himself up. The angle was perfect – Dean was a little taller but bow-legged, and _honestly why had they never tried this before?_

At that point Dean couldn’t _not_ push forward, fully erect and captivated by Castiel’s wet heat. It was a tight fit even with the lube and Castiel’s angel powers, and Dean stopped to allow Castiel to get used to the size.

Castiel took advantage of Dean’s hesitation and rocked backward, reaching out for Dean’s hand in the process with one of his. Dean narrowly missed falling backward out of Castiel only because his hand was pulled simultaneously forward. He draped himself over the angel’s back, and Castiel directed Dean’s hand to his cock, erect and proud and only a few inches away from the Impala’s front grill.

Dean wrapped his hand around Castiel’s thick cock and thrusted upward, tugging and twisting just slightly as he did so. Castiel howled, “Dean!” Once, twice more and Castiel was seizing up, _so tight_ around Dean. He leaned just slightly more forward, far enough for him to grasp Castiel and catch his spend before it landed on his precious car. 

When he righted himself somewhat, Castiel was still spasming around him with little aftershocks. He thrusted once into the hot heat, and then his own orgasm hit him with full force. He came, _hard,_ groaning loud and long as he thrusted in deeper than ever, his vision nearly whiting out.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

They had fallen into the back seat in a combination of sweaty bodies. Dean relaxed against the door, now fully clothed except for his shoes. In his haste to put clothes on (they were outside, after all), he had put his shirt on backward and couldn’t bring himself to care. Castiel laid against him, bereft for once of everything except his undershirt and boxers. Dean’s jacket provided a pillow for his head, and Castiel’s trenchcoat laid over both of them. Castiel looked every bit as sated as Dean felt, a serene smile stretched across his face and his hair sticking up at odd angles. In fact, the only thing that belied his true angelic nature was the fact that his eyes were open and he didn’t look remotely tired.

_Perfect._

Talking right now went against everything in Dean’s nature, but he had a bad feeling that he wasn’t going to get another chance. Still, time stretched on and Dean said nothing.

“Would you like to go back inside?” Castiel asked, turning to face Dean.

_Don’t leave. Not yet._

“Nah, here’s good,” Dean said.

Castiel raised an eyebrow at him, and Dean understood that Castiel had figured out that he meant to begin a discussion. When Dean didn’t answer, however, he simply relaxed back again onto Dean.

Finally, Dean started shakily. “So, just so we’re clear. We’re still… _us_. Right? I mean, because of that time when you snuck into the bunker… while you were possessed.”

He had been trying to make it seem as if he didn’t care about the answer, but he could tell Castiel wasn’t fooled.

The angel sat up to look at him with shock, followed immediately by steely determination. “Dean, it would take a lot more than Lucifer to get between _us._ I raised you from Hell. I _fell_ for you. I love you, even when you don’t love yourself. Nothing my brother does can ever cause the end of _us._ ”

Dean was gob-smacked. Never, in his entire life, had he been able to have that kind of faith in _anyone_ , aside from maybe Sam. And even if he did, he would never be able to _say_ it like _that_ … as if simply saying, “The sky is blue, _duh.”_ Except much, _much_ more important.

“I don’t…” he said, unsure what had been about to come out of his mouth. “I just…” He flashed back to the night in discussion, trying desperately to regain the thread of the conversation.

“I was just trying to be honest with you. About Amara. But she was nothing-…”

“Of course she’s not,” said Castiel, again with that “the sky is blue” voice. “Dean, Amara was a cosmic being. She was bonded to you through the Mark, and that bond manifested as attraction. I would not begrudge you kissing her, just like I don’t begrudge you kissing anyone else.”

_Wait. What?_

“Our bond is stronger, more meaningful,” Castiel said, looking proud now. “And not as easily broken.” 

“Cas-…” Dean interjected.

“Granted, our bond did not originally manifest as attraction,” Castiel added, and the sinful look he gave Dean at that point caused a flare of heat low in his belly. “This was a development that came about later. But it has not been disappointing.”

Castiel didn’t begrudge him sleeping with anyone else. _Did I get the wrong idea about this?_ The idea was almost laughable, but suddenly Dean began to doubt.

“Cas, you’re not – are you sleeping with anyone else?”

“I don’t sleep,” Castiel reminded him.

“I _know_ that Cas, I meant-…”

“And if you’re referring to sexual intercourse, of _course_ not. Why would I?” _Of course not. See? Laughable._

“You said you wouldn’t begrudge me kissing anyone else, so I…” Dean let the sentence trail off, waiting for Castiel to make the connection.

“You’re human,” Castiel said simply. “I know now what it’s like to be human. I know you have plenty of opportunities, and normally prefer women. I am not used to staying in one place. Surely you find… other opportunities when I’m not around.” The angel looked suddenly both uncomfortable and shocked about it. It was as though he had never seriously considered this prospect, and now that he had, he found he didn’t like it.

“Cas,” Dean said. “I had a one-night stand in February after you – after _Lucifer –_ broke up with me, before I found out you were possessed.”

Castiel was silent. “But before that, I haven’t been with anybody but you since I was a demon,” Dean added quickly. He hadn’t really wanted to, either, if he was honest. He did have reservations about talking to the angel about this, because talking about feelings in general made his stomach clench tightly. But, after all, what was the point of being in a monogamous relationship if the other person thought you were cheating? 

Castiel looked visibly shocked, then obviously pleased. “Oh!” he said, his smile growing suddenly wider. “I just always… I thought…”

“ _No_ , Cas,” Dean said, squeezing the man tighter. “I don’t step out like that. It’s _you_ , man. I thought you knew that.”

“No, I…” Castiel trailed off, clearly touched. “I’m honored,” he finally said. 

He leaned his head back down against Dean’s shoulder. Finally he said, “It’s not… necessary.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Dean said emphatically, slightly angered. “It _is.”_

Suddenly the Impala became slightly uncomfortable, as though an inflatable had been punctured and was letting out air very slowly.

“Cas… you should stay for awhile.”

“I have to-…” Castiel began.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” said Dean. “I know, you’ve gotta find Lucifer, fix your mistakes, all that. It’s what we do. But… you don’t have any good leads on him, not yet. You’d be gone already if you did.”

Castiel’s silence was as good as a confirmation. Emboldened, Dean added, “I’m just saying, don’t go on a wild goose-chase just to feel like you’re doing something. Stick around for a few days, until you at least have a solid lead.”

Castiel was silent for a minute, clearly thinking over the situation. Then he said, “Okay Dean. I would like that very much.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Two weeks went by. There was nightly sex, and kisses when nobody was looking. 

Dean was happier than he’d been in awhile. True, things with his mother were… awkward. They danced around each other, never really talking. “I’m learning that you were genetically gifted emotional repression from both your father _and_ your mother,” Castiel said bluntly one night. “It seems you never really had a chance.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence, Cas,” Dean grumbled.

Castiel had been getting increasingly frustrated with the search for Lucifer. For the first week and a half, the archangel had left a trail of empty husks in what seemed like a completely random pattern of locations. Then, for the past three days, there had been no husks at all.

“It means Lucifer’s found a vessel,” said Castiel. “At least, for awhile.” He hunched over the computer, clicking away furiously.

Dean put his hand on Castiel’s, steadying him. “We’ll find him, Cas. This time we’ll finish him, for good.”

Suddenly, they were startled by the sound of Mary clearing her throat. She was looking, amused, at Dean’s hand on top of Castiel’s. With a heart-stopping yelp, Dean let his hand drop to the floor.

Mary chuckled. “Dean! It’s not like I didn’t know.”

Dean was shocked. Sam was one thing – Sam knew him better than he knew himself. But his _mother?_ “You… you did?”

She laughed again. “I’ve been dead, not blind,” she said. “And, I’m your mother. Anyway, will you be using the Impala this afternoon? I want to go into town and buy some clothes and things.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Another week went by, and May turned into June. Dean began to see the telltale signs that Castiel was getting tired of staying in the bunker. The angel spoke less and researched more. Now that Mary knew about the couple, Dean felt more free to show small signs of affection every so often. It was a happiness Dean never thought he would be afforded, least of all in front of his mother.

Still, he knew that Mary was unhappy and felt out of place. “She asked me when it started to feel like I belong here,” Castiel confessed to him one night in mid-June.

“What?” Dean asked, surprised. “That’s… but she’s our mother! You told her she belongs here, right?”

“Of course!” said Castiel with a raised eyebrow. “She’s your mother.”

“Good,” Dean said, rolling away from Castiel to go to sleep. He added, “Thanks, Cas.”

“It was no problem, Dean.”

There was silence for a few seconds, and then Dean added, “When _did_ you start to feel like you belonged here?”

The following pause was way too long for Dean’s taste. Finally, Castiel said, “Sometimes, I still don’t.”

Dean turned back to Castiel with alarm, but the angel stalled him with a hand to his chest and a reassuring look. “It’s nothing you can fix, Dean. I’m an angel. We aren’t meant to be grounded at all, much less grounded in one place.”

Dean began to open his mouth, but Castiel added, “You are not much different yourself, Dean.”

It was true. Dean, too, had been desperate to leave the bunker for awhile now, but scared about how well his mother was adjusting.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The next morning, Sam and Dean were researching the British Men of Letters when Castiel walked into the kitchen.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean said. “Some coffee?”

“No, thank you,” he said, looking determined. “I have to go.”

“Cas?” Sam asked.

_I knew he was planning to leave when he found a lead. It’s not like this is a surprise._

Dean and Sam chased after him. 

“Cas, wait up!” Dean exclaimed.

“Hey,” said Sam. “Wait a second. Where are you off to?”

Castiel paused and answered, “Cleveland, Ohio.”

“For what?” Sam asked, though Dean was fairly certain he already knew.

“I think I may have a lead on Lucifer. I found a police report in Cleveland about a man whose eyes flared a glowing red. It could be Lucifer in a new body.”

“All right,” Dean said. “Yeah, that sounds like something. We should go check it out.”

Dean was desperate to leave the bunker too, after all; Castiel had been right.

“No,” Castiel replied. “The Devil is free because of me. Finding him is my responsibility.”

“Cas, you're gonna want some backup on this,” insisted Sam.

“If it is him, I will call you,” Castiel answered. “In the meantime, I think you're needed here.”

Dean knew Castiel was right, though he would miss the angel. It had only ever been a matter of time, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went around and around about how I wanted to do this sex scene. Did I want to do something more realistic, or did I want to do the classic “let’s fuck on the hood of the Impala” sex scene? The situation led up to “hood of the Impala” sex so perfectly that illogical sex won out in the end, sorry. I’m not usually a cliché trope sort of writer, but when the situation leads you to begin a sex scene on or in the Impala, you don’t just say “let’s have them spread out a blanket instead because Dean Winchester is nearing 40 and it would be more comfortable.” And between Mary’s “I remember this back seat” scene and the Anna experience, the back seat just seemed kind of “ew.”


	19. The Angel and the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 12, Part 2

Summer turned to fall. Mary decided that she wanted to get back into hunting, to the boys’ dismay. After their first hunt as a family, however, she left entirely. She reminded the brothers that it “was only yesterday” for her when they were still babies, and she was mourning the infant and four-year-old she had left behind. Dean and Sam were devastated.

“She’s trying to find her place,” Castiel told Dean over the phone one day in late October. “Give her some space. I would think it would still be nice to have her only a text away.”

Castiel had a point, Dean conceded.

Meanwhile, Dean and Sam completed several hunts, including one memorable one where Dean managed to kill the reincarnated version of Adolf Hitler. He and Castiel met up a handful of times as they each crossed the United States going different directions. Each meeting was as memorable as it was brief.

Castiel, for his part, had teamed up with Crowley in the hunt for Lucifer. The arrangement was productive, if insufferable. “He won’t leave me alone,” Castiel had told Dean over the phone during a quiet moment. “He’s annoying and he smells like a liquor store, but if I’m being honest, we need each other. I need his ability to possess people and his knowledge of Hell, and he needs my powers and my knowledge of Heaven. If we confront Lucifer, we’ll need each other more than ever. I hate it, but it’s a necessary means to an end, Dean.”

The silver lining of this arrangement was that Castiel would occasionally become so desperate to escape Crowley for a few days that he was more easily convinced than usual to come for a visit, especially if he was already nearby. Aside from this fact, however, the demon made their already complicated relationship even moreso. Crowley never let them have a moment alone, and commented constantly on their relationship.

For example, after Castiel didn’t call for a week in November, he finally admitted to Dean, “Crowley told me that you had, um, carnal relations, during the time that you were a demon. Now, I don’t mind if you did, Dean, I was just-…”

“I didn’t have _any_ relations with him while I was a demon!” Dean exclaimed. “Why _would_ I? Put that limey on the line!”

“You’ll never know how many of those bar wench sluts I climbed into, _bestie!”_ said Crowley’s voice from somewhere in the background.

_God please no._

After that, the phone disconnected, and Dean skipped his next meal and the next five of his usual masturbation sessions.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It was winter before any real progress was made on the hunt for Lucifer. After a long and casualty-filled tour of the US, Castiel and Crowley both had reason to suspect that Lucifer had taken up residence in Vince Vincente, the lead singer of a famous grunge rock band called Ladyheart. As Lucifer seemed finally to have settled down in one body and one location for more than a few days, Crowley reluctantly agreed with Castiel that it was time to “bring in Rocky and Bullwinkle.” Castiel hadn’t seen Dean since the beginning of November, and even that had only been for a night as he and Crowley had driven through Kansas. 

The Winchesters met up with Crowley and Castiel in the Bellaqua hotel in Los Angeles where Lucifer was rumored to be staying. They had brought some angel handcuffs from the bunker and Crowley and Castiel had both used their various magics to augment them, but there was still no guarantee they would hold a being like Lucifer. “My bet’s on ‘no’,” said Crowley.

Lucifer – or rather, Vince Vincente – had reportedly spent the day in the studio, so Castiel, Crowley, Sam, and Dean broke into Ladyheart’s hotel rooms. They found only a human tooth that had been ripped out of the mouth by the root.

“His vessel’s failing,” Castiel explained. “Though it’s lasted longer than most. He’ll have to switch again soon… within the month, at least. Sooner, if he uses more power before that.”

“Which means we have less than a month to figure out a way to kill him, or send him back to the Cage,” said Sam.

“Good luck with that,” said Crowley. “It’s a suicide mission.”

“I see you’re still standing here,” grumbled Castiel.

“The problem is, getting anywhere near the bugger,” said Crowley, ignoring Castiel’s comment. “Right now, he still doesn’t know we’re here. At least we’ve got the element of surprise. But when Feathers and I have done some scouting, he’s always been surrounded by at least three of those gigantic armored freaks, like he’s the bloody President.”

“There’s a worse problem,” said Castiel, moving aside a black bra to sit down on the white leather couch in the living room of Ladyheart’s hotel suite. “There’s been ‘buzz’” – he held up finger quotes – “about a revival show with Ladyheart sometime in the next couple of weeks. Vince Vincente’s Twitter keeps hinting at it.”

“What the hell does Lucifer want with a bunch of screaming rock fans?” asked Dean, but his facial expression showed Castiel that he had already realized the answer.

“He’s going to ‘rock ‘til they drop,’ obviously,” said Crowley, gesturing toward the exit to Ladyheart’s suite so that the others knew he planned on leaving. 

“We need to find out when that concert is going to happen,” said Sam, following Crowley.

“Agreed,” said Crowley. He snapped his fingers, and suddenly they were all in the parking lot of the Bellaqua hotel, Castiel’s truck on one side and the Impala on the other. “Now. There’s not much we can do tonight. It’s getting late, and there’s a burlesque show down the way I’m just _dying_ to get to. I’m going to assume little moosies and squirrely squirrels will need their sleep as well.”

“Actually-…” Sam began, but Crowley cut him off again.

“I’m going to go visit Ladyheart’s manager in the morning, and Feathers here is planning to pay a visit to Ladyheart’s bandmate to try to find this mysterious come-back show.”

Castiel nodded. “Tommy is not as well guarded, and already suspicious of Vince.”

“Meanwhile,” Crowley said, turning to Dean, “You and jolly green giant have an interview with Vince’s publicist. Ten o’clock at the Cafe of Angels down the street.”

“What are we supposed say to a publicist?” snapped Dean.

“Make it up!” snapped Crowley. “You’re good at that. Tell them you’re a new band, the Losechesters, and you’re _desperate_ for Vince Vincente’s opinion on flannel. I don’t care, just get the location of that bloody show!” And he disappeared.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “So… if you want to head back to the hotel, I’ve been looking at some new ideas for how we might be able to get Lucifer back into the cage. I haven’t made a lot of headway yet, but-…”

“Cas…” said Dean, looking horrorstruck. “Dude. We’re in LA. And we have a _free evening.”_

“Even with holy oil and handcuffs we won’t be able to hold Lucifer for-…”

“Cas, _enough_ ,” said Dean, smirking. “We’re in the City of Angels. The last time we were here, Sammy and I hadn’t been to Hell yet and found out what _real_ sin was all about. Lucifer will still be here tomorrow, and he’ll still be toeing the line because, as Crowley pointed out earlier, he’s constantly surrounded by guards. Plus, even Crowley said there was nothing else to be done today.”

Castiel began to feel daringly hopeful. It had been like this before a few times over the last few months, when there had been long breaks in the case, and Crowley had irritated him so much that he’d driven back to the bunker simply to clear his head. Still, he hadn’t anticipated any down time on this trip.

_A free evening, with Dean…!_

“C’mon, Sammy!” Dean said, appealing to his brother.

“Honestly, it would be nice to explore a little bit,” Sam said. “I’ve never been to the Hollywood sign-…”

“Don’t drive to the Hollywood sign,” Dean interjected. 

“Why not?” asked Sam.

“Because I _have_ been to the Hollywood sign, and I’m leaving you my Baby, and I don’t trust you not to fall down one of those ravines in the ‘Hills.”

Castiel understood now – Dean wanted some “alone time.” He recognized the same understanding dawning in Sam’s eyes.

“Fine,” said Sam, “I won’t drive to the sign. I was actually thinking of doing a bit of bar-hopping myself. But we’re driving by the sign before we leave LA.”

“Deal,” Dean said, throwing Sam the keys to the Impala. “And remember, Sammy, foreplay! It’s not just about you. And wear a condom, bitch!”

“Jerk!” Sam shot back, heading around the Impala to the driver’s seat and flipping Dean off.

Dean headed to the passenger side of Castiel’s truck, and the angel slid in beside him. “If you’re wanting to ‘explore the sights,’ there’s a bar two blocks over that I think-…”

He let out an undignified sound of surprise as Dean attempted to pull him toward the passenger seat by his lapels. When Castiel didn’t move with him, he abandoned ship and moved all the way forward into Castiel’s space, fastening his lips to Castiel’s in a bruising kiss. Lightning shot down Castiel’s spine, and he followed his lips and reached out with his arms before he realized what had happened. 

“Cas,” Dean muttered against Castiel’s mouth. “It’s been a month and a half. Where the hell do you think I wanna go?”

_Yes please._

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

To Dean’s utter shock, Castiel pulled into the parking lot of the Ritz Carlton.

“Cas, what the hell!” said Dean, distracted, momentarily, from his amorous thoughts.

Castiel looked at the tall building, and then back at Dean disappointedly. “Yes, it is very different from the motels we usually frequent. Would you like me to find something different for tonight?”

“Dude, _no!”_ Dean said. “It’s just… how are you _paying_ for this?”

Castiel pulled up to the valet and retrieved a ticket from the dashboard. The valet took it without question, but did offer a sneer in the direction of Castiel’s aging truck. Only after they had retrieved their bags and headed inside did Castiel answer the question. “Crowley got tired of having to pick me up all the time from wherever I was staying, and then drop me back off at my truck,” Castiel admitted. “He said it was _inconvenient_ , now that –…” Castiel looked around the lobby of the Ritz and lowered his voice. “Now that my wings don’t work anymore.”

_He’s embarrassed about it. He thinks he can’t pull his weight._

“So he’s paying?” Dean asked incredulously, kindly changing the subject as Castiel pushed the button for the elevator.

“No,” Castiel said. “Of course not. He owns the soul of one of the primary share-holders.” Castiel sighed as they stepped into the solitary elevator. “I tried to rectify the situation, but Crowley won’t tell me _which_ one, and I haven’t had the time to go tracking them all down so that I can figure it out.” He frowned as he fished in the pockets of his trench coat for a key card.

“Crowley likes this better,” Castiel continued. “He has the room next to mine, and when he wants my attention for something, he bangs on the wall. As often as not he’s either half out of his mind on human blood or covered in ladies of the night.” Castiel finally reached the door he was looking for, adorned with a “do not disturb” sign, and stuck the key card in.

“Ladies of the night?” Dean asked, chuckling. “Cas, nobody uses – holy _shit!”_

Dean entered the hotel room and gaped. The bed was huge and white, untouched, because Castiel didn’t sleep. Castiel’s bags were piled in the corner. A white chair and black modern-looking table showed the only signs of life in the posh room – a stack of papers sat on the table, and a tie was thrown over the chair.

Dean dropped his bags next to the bed, shrugged out of his shoes, and jumped face-first onto the bed. “Jesus _Christ_ , Cas, do you realize how much this room costs?” He tossed his jacket aside onto the sea of white that was the bed, then relaxed on it at ease. It felt heavenly _._

“No,” said Castiel, looking around the hotel room as though seeing it for the first time. “Although I did think it was a little more-…”

“Posh?” Dean interrupted. “Expensive?” He gestured to the pure white sheets. “Stain-free? Cas, a single _night_ in this room is the same price as about fifteen nights in our usual digs.”

“Oh,” said Castiel, and his gaze betrayed him as he looked left, toward the bathroom. “Well, since you’re here, I wondered if you might-…”

Dean was already headed for the bathroom. The whole thing was decorated with black marble – a double sink, a standing shower and, behind a separate door, a sprawling jacuzzi.

“Dude, _yes_!” Dean exclaimed as Castiel came around the corner. “They even have fluffy bathrobes!”

Without preamble, Dean turned on the faucets, testing them until he felt they were the perfect temperature. “Hey Cas, can you angel mojo this water and make this process faster?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but raised his hand and caused the small amount of water already collected in the bottom of the jacuzzi to more than triple.

“Awesome!” Dean exclaimed, and went to work on his clothes. He yanked off his socks, then flung off his pants, boxers, and shirt and added them to the pile. He stepped into the tub gingerly, decided it could be just slightly more hot, and adjusted the knob until it was just hot enough to feel like an electric blanket. He seated himself, let out an audible, “Ahhhh!” and leaned back against the side of the jacuzzi. 

He was just about to set to work attempting to find the jets when he realized that Castiel was still fully clothed. “There’s room here for us both, Cas,” he said.

Castiel met his eyes as if looking up from a daydream, and Dean realized he had caught the angel staring at him. “I should think so,” said Castiel. “I walked in on Crowley with four hookers once in the one in his room.”

Dean shuddered. “Don’t ruin the best night I’ve had in months,” he said. He located the button that he was fairly certain controlled the jets, then jerked quickly as he realized that one of the jets was way too close to his groin.

When Dean looked back at Castiel, the angel was still staring. “Like something you see?” he asked, grinning.

“Very much,” said Castiel, and finally the angel moved. Each article of clothing was discarded, painfully slowly, onto a pile on the sink beginning with Castiel’s shoes. 

When Castiel finally removed his shirt to reveal the lithe runner’s build beneath, he caught Dean’s eye again. “Like what you see?” he asked, quirking a smile.

“C’mere, Cas,” Dean said in answer, his voice sounding husky. 

Castiel continued with his pants, which he folded and added to the pile. By that time Dean was already beginning to harden, and he pressed a palm to himself under the cover of the jets to provide just a small amount of much-needed friction. 

Finally Castiel had finished removing (and folding) his clothing, and he moved toward Dean in the tub. 

“Dean,” he said huskily. He lowered himself so that he was straddling Dean, but still somehow not touching him except thigh to thigh. He took one hand and slowly trailed a light touch down Dean’s chest.

“Cas,” Dean said, and he surged forward, smashing his lips to Castiel’s. Castiel kissed like a drowning man finding water – it had been that way, lately more than ever, during the rare times they had together. And yet despite his intensity, Castiel still moved frustratingly slowly, as though they had all the time in the world. Dean thrust upward and barely touched warmth before Castiel pulled away again, just slightly.

The water was halfway up Dean’s chest now, and Dean’s arms carded through the jet current to reach Castiel’s ass and pull him forward. Castiel went willingly this time, finally grinding them together. Dean was fully hard now, and exhaled in his ear when their cocks made contact.

_God, yes._

Dean leaned forward and latched onto Castiel’s collarbone, skimming it with his teeth and sucking. Castiel lurched forward and groaned “Dean!” into his ear like an exaltation. Castiel melded his chest to Dean’s, and it felt like coming home, far more hot and comfortable even than the jacuzzi.

Slowly, Castiel moved against Dean, almost working against the natural movement of the water. As the top of Castiel’s cock caught against Dean’s, they both gasped.

“Dean,” Castiel said huskily, his mouth so close to Dean’s it was like sharing breath. “Are you-…”

“Yes, Cas, yes!” Dean groaned, grinding Castiel’s front against his own, desperate for friction.

Castiel moved backward and upward, but Dean barely had a moment to feel the loss before Castiel impaled himself on Dean’s cock, gasping into his mouth.

“Gaah, Cas!” Dean groaned, his hands sporadically grabbing for any part of Castiel he could reach. He eventually settled for one hand on Castiel’s ass and one on his back, and then managed somehow to scoot downward in the jacuzzi. His ass made a soft squelching sound as he moved downward, which they both chose to ignore.

“Dean!” Castiel moaned, and he began to move, one hand on the side of the jacuzzi for extra leverage.

Dean was heating up, from the jacuzzi, from Cas, from _this,_ and he knew it wouldn’t be long. He moved a hand between himself and Castiel and found Castiel’s erection, tall and proud now, and gave it a firm stroke. 

They breathed as one, both having long abandoned kissing. Castiel’s eyes seemed to burn into his very soul, and Dean could feel fire coiling rapidly inside him.

A few more strokes and he could feel Castiel clench around him, his head falling forward as his eye contact broke for the first time in several minutes. It had never stopped being a thrill, and a complete wonder, that _he_ could make an _angel of the Lord_ feel like that…

His orgasm hit him more quickly than he expected, and it seemed to go on forever, waves and waves exacerbated by the hot water and Castiel still fluttering around him.

“Cas,” he said quietly, and it was his turn for his head to fall forward onto Castiel’s shoulder as both of them allowed the jacuzzi to carry away the mess.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

_And the day had started off so well._

Castiel and Dean had had sexual intercourse one more time that night and again the next morning. Although they had spent a considerable amount of time in Dean’s or Castiel’s bed at the bunker, it had never been like _this_ , exactly.

When Castiel had commented on it, Dean said, “Have you _seen_ this hotel room?” Then he had grinned and added, “And you never know, it may be our last night on Earth… we _needed_ to get you laid, Cas.”

Castiel remembered, so many years ago now, Dean’s attempt to get him laid in a den of iniquity with a blond girl named Chastity. He had been so confused then about his feelings for Dean, tried so hard to rebel against them. He was happy, now, though, overall – so glad for this opportunity to share whatever Dean would give him… even if Dean wasn’t willing to open himself up like Castiel was.

Fast forward to 24 hours later, and Lucifer had slipped through their fingers… again. They had fought him, and lost. He had worn through his vessel trying to fight them, and then moved on.

“Well, we didn’t catch Lucifer, but we did save the crowd, so I’m gonna call that a win,” said Dean.

_I wouldn’t go that far._

“I wouldn’t,” said Sam, echoing Castiel’s thoughts. “Vince Vincente is dead.”

“We never even hoped to save him,” Dean protested, and Castiel tuned them out.

_So many months_ of trailing Lucifer with Crowley and now they were back to square one.

“Lucifer was bad enough when he had a plan, a motive,” Sam was saying. “Now he’s just having fun. I mean, how many people died tonight?” Sam asked frustratedly. “Them, this, it’s all on us. We let him out.”

_I let him out._

“We’re not winning,” Sam finished. “We’re just losing slow. And you heard what he said.”

“Onwards and upwards,” agreed Crowley. “He’s gone big.”

“And he’ll go bigger,” agreed Castiel.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel had always tried to be discreet about his and Crowley’s continued search for Lucifer. He felt, very strongly, that it was his responsibility to capture and/or kill Lucifer, and Dean didn’t need to concern himself – not because he didn’t want Dean there, but because this was his fault and so his duty to put to rights. 

Dean, as usual, had a different idea. They ran into each other again only two days later, over the corpse of another of Lucifer’s burned out vessels, then separated ways once more immediately after.

“Irritable much, Cas?” Dean snapped when Castiel picked up the phone later. “You and Little Nicky didn’t even stay in town long enough for a complementary blow job.”

“Crowley thinks he might have a lead in Massachusetts,” said Castiel. “And Dean, I’ve already told you, finding Lucifer is my -…”

“Yeah, I know, your burden, your job to fix,” said Dean irritably. “Only, it’s not, is it? We work better as a team. The three of us, that’s how it’s always been, Cas. And you wouldn’t have let Lucifer out in the first place if _we_ hadn’t let the Darkness out!”

_Also my fault._

_“I_ let the Darkness out!” Castiel exclaimed.

“On Sam’s instructions, to save _me_!” Dean shouted back through the phone.

_Stubborn human._

There was silence for a second. “Look, man. Getting Lucifer back into the box is gonna take all three of us, maybe even all _four_ of us, painful as it is to say it.”

_Or it’s going to get all four of us killed._

“Much as I’d love to hunt with you, I don’t much fancy breaking bread with the finest Hell has to offer,” Dean continued. “So how about this: you do your thing, Sam and I will do our thing, and if any of us get a lead that takes us farther than a corpse, we let the others know.”

_It’s a solid plan._

“Deal,” said Castiel.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Three days later, Dean and Sam called with news – another burnt-out husk, this time the Archbishop of St. Louis. 

“Great,” Crowley said sarcastically, excusing himself from the gigantic bed he was sharing with three women. “It really wasn’t worth disrupting my orgy to tell me that you _don’t_ have new information, but… I’ve got news as well.”

Castiel waited as the girls on the bed slowly began to re-dress.

“You’re going to have to pick up the search for Lucifer without me for a few days,” Crowley said.

“What?” Castiel said, surprised. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. 

“It occurs to me that when we finally catch up to him again, we don’t have a way to _catch_ him,” said Crowley. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the Winchester’s angel handcuffs, and even holy oil, were an _utter_ failure.”

Castiel had definitely noticed.

“Which means,” Crowley added, “That I’ll have to part company with you for awhile and seek out one of the few people whose company I detest more.”

“Rowena,” Castiel realized.

“My mother,” confirmed Crowley.

“Unfortunately for you, that means you’ll need to _andale_ out of this hotel room and move somewhere less… _me,_ and more… _ew.”_

“I suppose you’re right,” said Castiel, trying (but utterly failing) to hide his smile. Finally, he had shed the demon.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel raced to the bunker to gather more details about Lucifer’s latest burnt-out vessel. When he arrived, however, it was just in time to meet Crowley once again, with the biggest news yet: he had met with one of his loyal subjects, who had revealed that Lucifer’s newest vessel was, in fact, the President of the United States.

In addition to their usual research on ways to capture or kill Lucifer, Castiel and the Winchesters spent the night after Crowley’s visit discussing ways to get past the President’s security. Some of their most plausible ideas depended on Crowley, which was never a good thing. Defeated, Sam went to bed, and Dean and Castiel spent time getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies.

Castiel was in the process of getting them coffee in the morning when a giant _something_ split his head.

It was a force, a greater force than he’d felt in years. It was like when the Darkness came back to Earth, except that this force was slightly less strong and much less _nothingness._

The coffee cups clattered to the ground, and Castiel doubled over in pain.

Then came the voices – his brothers and sisters, all screaming, all at once.

_“A nephilim! It is blaspheme!”_

_“It must be killed.”_

_“How did this happen?”_

_“The child of an angel and a human…”_

_“It is so powerful.”_

_“It cannot be allowed to live.”_

_“Who would do this?”_

“ _It must be Castiel, the Fallen,”_ said his brother Kyniel, who had been one of Metatron’s right hands. “ _Only he would –…”_

_“It was not I,”_ Castiel replied. “ _I love the human race, but a nephilim is an abomination. And, I do not have this sort of power. None of us do.”_

They all knew who was responsible.

_Lucifer._

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Things happened quickly after the conception of the nephilim. A British Man of Letters named Arthur Ketch provided something called a “hyperbolic pulse generator”, which he promised would forcibly remove Lucifer from the vessel. (Castiel could tell from Dean’s face that he was impressed with both Ketch’s skill and his weaponry, but Dean still proclaimed later that Ketch was “a douche.”)

For once, their plan was completed flawlessly. Sam chanted the necessary words to activate the pulse generator and removed Lucifer from the President, Rowena and Crowley banished Lucifer back to the cage, and Castiel took Kelly, the woman carrying the nephilim, to safety.

He would meet up with Sam and Dean later, but for now, Kelly wanted to stop and get some food. He needed to talk to her about what she planned to do next. He needed to convince her to abort the baby.

The hard part was over. Lucifer was finally, _finally_ gone, and he could stop hanging out with _Crowley_ , of all people. He had put the “Lucifer” situation to rights, and once the baby was aborted, all the loose ends would be tied up.

Maybe he would go back to the bunker, and he and the Winchesters would hunt together. He had corrected all of his mistakes, and was still unwelcome in Heaven...

Kelly was taking an awful long time in the bathroom…


	20. Whatever "Cosmic Consequences" Means

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 12, Part 3

_“Cas, man… after you left with Kelly, we got caught by the cops. They took us to a maximum security prison… I think it’s a black site. We’re in separate cells. I can’t hear or see Sam. The warden seems to think that the best way to torture information out of us is to put us in solitary confinement.”_

The demons had tried this in Hell, of course, but never for this long. It was Alastair’s one weakness – he had considered solitary confinement “too hands off.” Mostly, Dean was worried for Sam. He was certain that Sam’s torture in Hell hadn’t included solitary confinement – after all, Lucifer had had nothing on Alastair’s creativity.

“ _I don’t know if you’re receiving this, or if you can do anything… I don’t think you can find us, because of the Enochian warding. And I don’t know where we are, man. They drove us a long way, and I’m not even sure which direction. I took a nail out of my bed and I’m marking the days I’ve been here…”_

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

_“Cas, it’s been two months today, and I’m worried about Sammy. I can’t hang on much longer. I know he’s bad off if he’s still in here with me. I hope you’ve talked to Mom, and told her what’s been going on… Have you asked Crowley? I hate to ask, but…”_

He missed Castiel almost as much as he missed Sam. He had had two months, now, to remember every touch, every drawn-out look between the two of them…

Why had he been so stupid? When he saw Castiel again, he would tell him he loved him. He would bottom. He loved him so much…

_“Cas, when I see you again, I have something important to tell you, okay?”_

_“Cas, I think I’m going crazy in here…”_

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It had been two months. Two months, with no word, and then, out of nowhere, Dean and Sam had returned, just like they always did. Somehow, they’d broken out of a US government black site and were on the run.

Castiel knew instantly, from the look in Dean’s eyes, that something was horribly wrong. He knew from the way Dean hugged him, as though he was memorizing the way they fit together for both the first and the last time. He knew from Dean’s kiss, which he normally would never have been comfortable doing in front of his mother. He knew from the way Dean held his hand in the back of the Impala, as though he would never let go.

Mostly, he knew something was wrong from Dean’s eyes. They should’ve been wild and elated after a month in a jail cell. Instead they were burdened and desperate.

It reminded Castiel of the look in Dean’s eyes right before he almost agreed to be possessed by Michael, so many years ago. It made Castiel’s blood run cold.

And then, in the dead of night on a lonesome bridge, Billie the reaper appeared.

“We made a deal,” Sam explained, looking scared but resigned. “We’d get to die and come back one more time, but in exchange…”

“Come midnight, a Winchester goes bye-bye,” Billie finished. “Like, permanently. And that is something I’ve been looking forward to for a long time.”

Castiel was horrified. _Dean, how could you?_

_“_ Why would you--…” began Dean’s mother.

“We were already dead,” Dean cut her off. “Being locked in that cell with nothing… I’ve been to Hell. This was worse.”

They had been in solitary confinement, then. Castiel had heard that some humans used that to torture. The worst of the angels and demons used it, but it wasn’t preferred – most angels considered it too horrible, and most demons considered it too boring.

“At least this way, one of us gets to keep fighting,” Dean finished.

“You don’t have to do this,” said Castiel. _I won’t let you do this._

“Yeah, they do,” Billie said insistently. “We made a pact, bound in blood. You break that, there’s _consequences on a cosmic scale_. So, who’s it gonna be?”

There was no conscious choice. Dean would insist it had to be him, which meant that Billie had to die. There wasn’t a single conscious thought other than pure determination as Castiel faded slowly into the background.

When he crept up behind Billie, Mary Winchester had a gun to her head and Sam and Dean were both screaming –

Castiel raised his angel blade. _I’m sorry, Billie…_

The angel blade drove through Billie’s chest, and light erupted around it, shattering the dark sky.

“Cas, what’ve you done?” exclaimed Dean.

“What had to be done,” Castiel said shakily.

_I just got you back. I won’t lose you again._

“You know this world-- this sad, doomed little world-- it needs you. It needs every last Winchester it can get, and I will not let you die. I won’t let any of you die. And I won’t let you sacrifice yourselves. You mean too much to me, to everything. Yeah, you made a deal. You made a stupid deal, and I broke it. You’re welcome!”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The trip home was quiet.

_Cosmic consequences._

Dean had been ready to die, ready to give his life for Sam to continue living. But then Cas had blown that to smithereens, with no thought for the _consequences on a cosmic scale._

What was next? Another monster like the leviathans? Like the Darkness? Did God have another sister? What happened when you broke a blood bond with a reaper? Dean’s thoughts swirled in the back seat, where he sat as far away from Castiel as he could.

Dean had hope that his feelings would change when he arrived back at the bunker. Surely it would be a relief to return to where he felt most comfortable. He smiled a small smile as he watched Sam lead the way underground, letting out a sigh of relief as his fingers trailed reverently across the top of the stairwell leading downward. Castiel took up the rear, following Dean and looking put-upon.

Everything was exactly as they had left it two months ago, and Dean felt his spirits lift slightly as he looked around at the familiar situation room, the library –

“What’s that?” he asked Castiel and Mary, his eye settling on a bulletin board in the corner.

Castiel shuffled his feet nervously. “I’ve been tracking Kelly, the, uh… the woman carrying the nephilim.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. Dean said aggressively, “I thought you were going to take care of that little problem? You know, before we went to prison?”

“She got away from me,” Castiel admitted, unable to meet Dean’s eye.

“Where did you-?” Sam began, but Dean interrupted him.

“What the fuck, Cas? I leave for two months and suddenly you can’t keep track of one human girl?”

“Dean,” Sam said, warningly, but Dean could feel himself spiraling out of control. It was a feeling he associated with the Mark of Cain, if admittedly on a lesser scale. Everything he’d been shoving down for more than two months – Lucifer, the imprisonment and isolation, and most of all, _cosmic consequences –_ all seemed to boil over the surface.

“Just once, when we solve a problem, I want it to not lead to another problem, you know?” Dean said frustratedly. “We sent Lucifer back to the cage. We’re out of jail. That’s supposed to be _it._ Over, done, finite. But now – now we’ve got Rosemary’s baby, and – and _cosmic consequences._ God _dammit,_ Cas!”

He stalked down the hallway and retreated to his room.

He slumped on his bed, resentful that Castiel had ruined what otherwise might have been a happy moment. (A small part of him acknowledged that without Castiel, one of them would have died, but for tonight Dean chose to ignore that part of him.) The truth of the matter was that whatever these _cosmic consequences_ were, they would probably come back to bite Castiel in the end. 

_It might be easier to just cut ties with him now,_ Dean thought. _Better that than stick around and watch whatever “cosmic consequences” means. He’s just another person I’ve let down, another person who had to take the fall for me because I wasn’t good enough._

Lucifer’s words came back to haunt him. “ _Every day, he becomes more human, like the very touch of you is contagious. Leave my brother alone, before you ruin him too.”_

And now Castiel had risked _cosmic consequences_ to save Dean, _again._ Perhaps it was too late to change things, but Dean would try. Otherwise, Castiel would be just another tragedy of the Winchesters.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel had lost track of Kelly when she had snuck out of the bathroom. It was more difficult than Castiel had expected to keep up with her without wings. He could sense her, of course – she didn’t have an Enochian tattoo to ward her, after all – but she moved so often that he always seemed to barely miss her. He had compiled a bulletin board at the bunker displaying her habits, relatives, and places she might show up, but he needed allies – people who were willing to help him head her off. Eventually, he decided it might be easier to ease off the hunt for awhile, perhaps let her think she was safe to stay in one place. 

While he was at the bunker, Castiel had received a few phone calls from hunters needing help. He had tried to assist them – he had even succeeded on a couple of occasions. Overall, however, he found that he had missed the brothers more than he would’ve ever thought possible, Dean in particular. He had been desperate for word of them, desperate for Dean to return to the bunker.

Now, only three days later, he couldn’t wait for a decent excuse to _leave_. Dean hadn’t spoken to him in three days, since the incident with the reaper. They passed each other several times a day, and Dean refused to make eye contact.

“He’s worried about you,” Sam said after Dean left the kitchen as soon as Castiel came into it. “Just give him time.”

Castiel knew that Sam was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. He shot the younger Winchester a glare and retreated back to his room.

His excuse to leave the suffocating bunker arose the following day, when he heard an old angel friend cry for help. Benjamin, a member of his old garrison, uttered a series of cries for help before he suddenly, alarmingly, stopped.

Castiel didn’t waste any time. As he headed past the situation room to his truck, he overheard Sam: “My point is, Cas thought he was doing the right thing.”

“I was doing the right thing,” Castiel said as he walked by them. He supposed he ought to say good-bye, at least. He knew what he had gone through over the past month, with no word and no notice, and he would never wish that on Dean.

“You sure about that?” Dean snapped. It was the first time he’d spoken directly to Castiel in days.

“Yes,” Castiel said tiredly.

“Yeah?” Dean asked. “Well, I'm not so sure. And when the other shoe drops –…”

“I’ll deal with it,” snapped Castiel. “I’ve got to go.”

“Got a lead on Kelly?” asked Sam as Dean began a comeback.

“No,” Castiel answered. “This is personal.”

“Meaning what?” asked Dean.

_Meaning I have other things to do besides hang around here and get ignored. People who actually want my help._

“Another angel. An old friend. He called out for help.”

“Oh. Good old reliable angel radio,” Dean said, just on the irritating side of sarcastic.

“He was begging for help and then he just stopped,” said Castiel, his patience wearing thin. “I need to know if he's still alive.”

“Yeah, all right,” said Sam. “Well... we'll come with you.”

Castiel looked at Dean in surprise. “Both of you?” he challenged.

Castiel could see, in Dean’s eyes, the desire to continue to ignore Castiel war with the desire to not be left behind. 

_Don’t do me any favors._

“Sure,” Dean said finally. Yeah, we could help. Gotta make sure you don't do anything else stupid.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The Impala was a special kind of awkward Hell. 

Castiel seemed even more determined than Dean to remain silent, which was fine with Dean.

Sam, on the other hand, had been squirming almost since they left the bunker. “All right, who wants music?” he asked finally.

“I'm good,” Dean said immediately.

“You?” Sam asked looking backward at Castiel, but the angel only grunted.

“Okay,” Sam said, putting on a patented bitchface. “Cas, is there anything specific we should know about your friend?”

Castiel remained silent.

_He probably wants to “handle it himself”, just like always,_ thought Dean. _Damn Sam for wanting to go along._

Dean remembered, not for the first time in the last few days, all of the awful choices Castiel had made in the name of “handling it himself” – becoming God, deceiving them for an entire year, leaving him alone in Purgatory, allowing Lucifer to possess him…

“All right,” Sam said, cutting into Dean’s thoughts. “Guys, you know what? This – this silent treatment thing, it's silly. It's not gonna work. Whatever we're walking into, we should, you know, probably have an actual plan.”

Finally, Castiel sighed. “What do you want to know?”

Rather than feel victorious that Castiel had finally broken his silence, it only served to agitate Dean even more. “Oh, he speaks!” Dean exclaimed.

“Enough,” said Sam. “Cas, you said when you heard Benjamin, he was screaming.”

“It was, um...” Cas began, then seemed to collect himself and plowed forward. “Look, Benjamin wouldn't call for help lightly. And he wouldn't put himself in harm's way if he could help it.”

“Wow, this Benjamin seems like he's pretty cool, you know,” said Dean. ”Like he wouldn't make any half-cocked, knee-jerk choices.” He knew he was being a dick, but he couldn’t help it; Castiel’s words had touched on a raw nerve. 

“Yeah, you know what I like about him?” Castiel snapped. “That he's sarcastic, but he's thoughtful and appreciative, too.”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” snapped Dean, jerking backward to look at Castiel. A horn honked, and Dean realized he’d started to drift into the other lane.

“Okay, okay, the road!” Sam exclaimed. “Dude, watch the road.”

“I got it,” Dean snapped back at him.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

If Castiel had _had_ a best friend who was an angel, it probably would’ve been Benjamin. After the Apocalypse, Benjamin had been one of the first angels to accept and embrace his freedom to do as he pleased, and one of the only angels to do so for good. Benjamin got along well with his longtime vessel, a woman from Madrid, and she had influenced his choices and calmed his fire.

Honestly, there had been moments where Castiel had thought that Benjamin would be the last angel still alive. He had given Castiel amnesty a couple of times, including once when he was human for a few days. He was careful to not get involved in conflict if he could avoid it, however. 

And yet, Benjamin had been killed with an angel blade.

Who could have done this? Perhaps the leader of their old Garrison, Ishim, would know. He was one of the others that Benjamin had called out to, before he had died.

Castiel made plans to meet Ishim and another member of their old Garrison, Maribel, at a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

“Ishim said to come alone,” Castiel tried to explain outside the restaurant. “He doesn't like humans.”

Sam looked slightly hurt but agreeable, but Dean looked absolutely enraged. 

Castiel thought of Benjamin, who had helped him research the Mark when Dean was in trouble. “If I plan to do anything else stupid, I'll let you know,” he snapped, and then walked purposefully inside the diner.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel was taking too long, and Dean’s patience waned quickly. Finally, he stormed into the diner, Sam on his heels.

“Feeling a little left out over there,” said Dean upon spotting Castiel with two other angels. All three angels were frowning; the meeting apparently was not going well. “Scoot over.”

Castiel scooted over just slightly to make room for both Winchesters. “I said to come alone,” said a male angel disdainfully, pouring sugar into his coffee. Dean assumed that this was Ishim. He was proud but quiet, the kind of quiet that comes from someone secretly waiting to stab you. He reminded Dean of a snake.

“These are my friends,” said Castiel, glaring at Dean. “My friends who don't listen very well.”

“How are you doing?” asked Sam. “I’m-…”

“We know who you are,” said a female angel with narrowed eyes.

“Check outside to see if there are others,” Ishim ordered her.

The woman left, and Ishim continued to stir his coffee, lounging at his ease. Dean glared at him.

“I only brought Sam and Dean,” Castiel said.

“As far as you know,” said Ishim.

Five minutes later, Dean was glad he had stormed into the diner. He had decided that Ishim was one of the douchiest angels he had ever met (which was saying something).

“You know, when I knew Castiel, he was a soldier,” Ishim was saying. “He was a warrior. He was an angel's angel.” Ishim looked at Dean and Sam. “Now look how far he's fallen.” 

Dean was incensed, but Ishim continued to pour sugar into his coffee, clearly unconcerned about the Dean’s reaction. “How about a little coffee with that sugar?” Dean snapped.

Ishim raised his head and stared at Dean for a few long moments, sizing him up. Dean glared back. Finally, Ishim appeared to reach a conclusion, and turned to Castiel instead. “No wings, no home,” he taunted disdainfully. “Just a ratty old coat and a pair of poorly trained monkeys.”

“Oh. Well, you can go to Hell,” said Dean, anger growing hotter.

“Dean, it's fine,” said Castiel. 

“No,” said Sam, sounding genuinely hurt on Castiel’s behalf. “No, it's not.”

“Sam, this isn't about me,” interrupted Castiel. “It's about Benjamin.”

“Now that,” said Ishim, “Is refreshingly accurate. But since you brought a couple of extra ‘people’ to our little chitchat, we should go somewhere more private. I have a safe house nearby.” He stood up to leave, not even looking at Sam or Dean as he made his exit.

“Wow,” said Sam, taking Ishim’s seat in the booth across from Castiel and Dean. “Hell of a friend, Cas.”

“Why do you let him talk to you like that?” asked Dean, still burning with anger on Castiel’s behalf.

“If Ishim can help me find whoever killed Benjamin, then I have to,” said Castiel.

Dean tried to reason with him. “Okay, yeah, look, I get that we need super dick there, but, I mean, come _on.”_

“The angels that I served with are being killed,” Castiel said, looking tired. “So I will put up with Ishim, I will put up with everything else, and so will you. I have to go.” 

Dean got up to let Castiel out of the booth, and Castiel raced out the door. Dean sat down across from Sam. “Dammit, Sam! How can he let that douche talk to him like that? I mean, I know Cas has made some mistakes, but what a freaking _asshole!”_

To his surprise, Sam leveled him with a glare. “It’s not like you’ve been much better,” he said.

A small part of Dean realized that Sam was right, but Dean ignored it. “I would _never_ -…”

“You’ve been ignoring him for three days, and you called him stupid twice on the ride here!” Sam shot back.

“I did not!” Dean said immediately, but he knew he had lost the entire thread of his argument.

Sam knew it, too. “Let’s go home, Dean,” he said. “And tomorrow you can call Cas, thank him for saving us _again_ , and apologize for being a world-class _jerk.”_

“Bitch,” Dean whispered under his breath, but he followed Sam out the door.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Rather than returning home, Sam and Dean became involved in the conflict once again when they found Maribel dead outside the restaurant, Ishim bleeding from a side wound, and Castiel fighting a one-eyed female attacker.

In the end, Ishim turned out to be an even bigger dick than Sam and Dean had anticipated. Some years ago, he had led Castiel, Maribel, Benjamin, and the rest of their Garrison in a mission to kill the nephilim daughter of a woman named Lily Sunder. 

Dean and Sam found out that Lily’s daughter hadn’t been a nephilim, however – it was a lie, told to the Garrison by Ishim to mask the truth – he was in love with Lily, and she had spurned him to be with another angel. Her daughter had been human.

“She's a liar,” Ishim replied easily when Sam and Dean confronted him with this information at his safehouse.

“Why would she lie?” asked Castiel.

“She's human,” said Ishim offhandedly. “It's kinda what they do.”

“Well, if she's a liar, she's pretty good at it,” said Dean. “You, on the other hand, kind of suck.”

“Who are you gonna believe?” Ishim asked Castiel. “Your brother, or some filthy ape who's always talking down to you, always mocking you!”

A stab of guilt sliced through Dean. “You know, Cas and I might not agree all the time, but at least he knows who his real friends are.” _Even if we don’t deserve it._

“Why do his words bother you so much, Ishim?” asked Castiel suspiciously.

“Who is he to question my choices?” Ishim said, casually. “Who is he to question yours?”

“Well, it seems that some of my choices may need to be questioned,” Castiel said, advancing on Ishim. Dean could tell that Castiel was starting to get angry. “Now tell me. The girl – was she human?”

“Oh, you're not gonna like the answer,” said Ishim.

Dean could do the math: this wasn’t ending well. He pulled out an angel blade and rushed Ishim, but he felt himself flying backward against the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Castiel and Ishim fighting.

It wasn’t good – Castiel had healed Ishim’s wound from earlier, and was weakened as a result. Castiel was losing, and badly. “I used to envy you, Castiel,” Ishim said, grabbing Castiel by the collar and punching him. “Do you believe that? You survived Hell. You were chosen by God.”

Castiel head-butted Ishim, but Ishim retaliated with a swift punch to the face. “But now look at you. You're just sad and pathetically weak.”

Lily Sunder showed up around that time, led there by Sam, and Ishim rose to meet her in battle. She had power to match Ishim’s, Dean knew – a dark magic spell that allowed her to use parts of her soul to power her revenge.

It was Castiel, though, who drove the final blade through Ishim’s heart. 

In the aftermath of the battle, he addressed a now confused and unsure Lily Sunder. “I’m sorry,” he said gently to her. “I was wrong. And, while it's true that I didn't know we were killing an innocent, ignorance is no excuse. I truly can't imagine the depths of your loss. This was your child. I can't imagine the pain. So if you leave here and you find that you can't forgive me... I'll be waiting.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Later that night, Sam, Dean, and Castiel gathered for a night cap in the situation room. The alcohol would have no effect on Castiel, but he understood the gesture of friendship and was thankful for it. 

“What Ishim said... You're not weak, Cas,” said Dean. “You know that, right?”

No, he didn’t know that. He constantly failed to protect Dean and Sam from larger threats, and he continued to constantly question whether he was taking the moral high ground.

“I mean, obviously, you've changed, but it's all been for the better, man,” added Sam.

“And you have been with us every step of this long, crazy thrill ride,” said Dean. “And no matter how crazy it got, you never backed down.”

That much was true, certainly.

“And that takes real strength,” added Sam.

Castiel was truly touched. He wasn’t sure if he believed everything they were saying, but he appreciated that they were saying it. “Thank you,” he said.

“Cas, I don't like how the whole Billie thing went down. Okay?” said Dean. “I know you think you were doing the right thing. And I'm not mad. I'm worried. Because things like ‘cosmic consequences’ have a habit of biting us in the ass.”

“I know they do,” said Castiel defensively. “But I don't regret what I did, even if it costs me my life.”

“Don't say that, man,” said Sam. 

Dean changed the subject. “So what are you gonna do if you find Kelly and, uh, Lucifer Junior? It is a Nephilim, right?”

Castiel planned to leave the next day in his search again for Kelly. She had stood still for 3 days now, he could sense it. He wanted to leave that night, but he was weak after healing and then fighting Ishim. He needed the strength that sleep and time would bring.

Castiel was just finishing undressing down to a t-shirt and his dress pants when he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door. He smiled as Dean opened the door, not bothering to wait for Castiel to answer it. “Hello, Dean.”

“You can stay with me tonight, if you like,” Dean said, stopping just past the threshold. Castiel could tell that he was trying to make it seem as if he didn’t care about the answer, but his eyes belied his nervousness. “Or I can stay here.”

Castiel smiled. “I’ll join you, thank you. That would be wonderful.”

Dean gave a wide smile. 

“Only… I’m weaker than I should be,” Castiel acknowledged. “I have to actually _sleep._ ” 

Dean gave a frown of disappointment before arranging his face into a smile once more and holding out his hand. Castiel grasped it, and together they walked back to Dean’s room, which had the comfortable double bed. 

Once in Dean’s room, Castiel took off his pants, a small smile on his face. He hated fighting with Dean. Dean was safe, and Dean was no longer mad at him, and Lucifer was in the cage again… things were good.

“I wish you weren’t leaving tomorrow,” Dean said, toeing off his shoes. “I thought we could, maybe, go somewhere nice. Like a… not a restaurant, because you don’t eat, but… maybe for a drive or something.”

“We go on drives all the time, Dean,” Castiel said, confused. He sat down on the bed, watching Dean’s movements.

“Well, this one will be different.” said Dean, unbuttoning his long-sleeved shirt and avoiding Castiel’s eyes.

Castiel began to feel as if he were missing something big. It didn’t happen to him as often as it used to, but occasionally he still felt as though he had missed major concepts in human customs. “Dean, I don’t understand.”

Dean let out a sigh of frustration, then turned to face Castiel. “Cas, man, I’m trying to ask you on a date, okay! That’s what humans do when they care for each other, and I really care for you, Cas. Like, a _lot.”_

_Oh!_

“I care for you too, Dean,” Castiel said, now smiling fully. “ _A lot._ And as soon as I’m back in town, I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Oh,” said Dean, grinning as he shrugged out of his pants. “Well, awesome, then.” 

He climbed up onto the bed and cupped Castiel’s chin, his hands soft and welcome. His kiss was feather light, and Castiel sank into it like a warm bath. The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was Dean’s green eyes and warm smile.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel woke up early the next morning, at 7AM. He would have to set off soon – the sooner the better. He could spare a little time, though. There was something he wanted to try, and now seemed like a good time.

Dean was sleeping soundly beside him, his right leg touching Castiel’s left, and there was something very human, very domestic, about waking up beside him. Was this what other couples did every day? The last time he had needed to sleep had been over a year ago, after the beast spell, and Castiel realized that he had missed waking up next to Dean.

Castiel slowly pulled the sheet down from over the top of Dean, admiring the flat planes of his chest, and the way it rose and fell in peaceful sleep for once. Castiel had observed Dean’s nightmares many times in Purgatory, and Sam reported that he still had them sometimes. It had been quite a long time since he had had them while sleeping next to Castiel, however.

To make his task simpler, Castiel magicked Dean’s boxers over onto the chair, where they appeared cleaned and folded. Dean snuffled in his sleep, but did not wake.

Slowly, Castiel sat up, inching toward Dean’s still flaccid cock. Dean would never let him look his fill like this if he were awake…

Castiel rested on one elbow until his face was level with Dean’s cock and took an experimental lick, then wrapped his tongue around it slowly. 

Dean snuffled again, unintentionally forcing himself farther into Castiel’s mo54uth – an infinitely tiny thrust.

Emboldened, Castiel began to suck slowly as Dean stiffened. He was still able to take all of Dean in his mouth without effort, as Dean was only halfway hard.

“Cas,” Dean muttered, though Castiel could tell Dean was still asleep. Castiel chuckled, wrapping his tongue around Dean’s length and adding his hand to the mix. He was fully thick now, heavy on Castiel’s tongue.

Dean snorted awake. “Cas, _God_ yes,” he said emphatically, thrusting up into Castiel’s mouth. They had been together long enough, now, that Dean knew Castiel’s limits. Castiel encouraged Dean to fuck his mouth – it was one of the hottest things Castiel had ever experienced.

Castiel relaxed his throat and allowed Dean to thrust up into his mouth. Dean’s cock was huge on Castiel’s tongue but the hand on Castiel’s head was gentle as usual, as though Dean still didn’t trust that Castiel could take a good throat-fucking.

“Cas, I’m gonna –…” Dean started. “Stop, stop, can we-…”

Castiel hadn’t intended on this escalating to sexual intercourse, but he also wasn’t complaining. His vessel was already hard, and felt neglected. Castiel dove for the lube in the bedside table.

Dean tried to sit up to help Castiel along in the process, but Castiel swallowed him down again and he fell back to the bed, moaning unabashedly. His fingers curled into the back of Castiel’s hair in an attempt to tug him off, though his cock chased Castiel’s mouth when he pulled back just slightly. “Cas, c’mon!”

Castiel magicked his clothes away, then used a small amount of lube as well as his grace to prep himself perfunctorily. Dean followed his actions with his eyes fluttering open and closed, until Castiel’ finally pulled his mouth off of Dean’s cock with a loud _pop._

Dean grasped Castiel’s hips and Castiel maneuvered himself into position, and the next second Dean was sheathed inside of Castiel’s heat. Both of them groaned.

Castiel pulled up slowly, savoring the drag on his rim and the way Dean’s hands dug into his hips as he tried to convey his urgency.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean moaned, attempting to thrust upward into Castiel, but Castiel moved upward in response, then sank slowly back down again. He adjusted until Dean’s cock hit his prostrate perfectly, then began another slow drag upwards.

Dean dug his fingers even farther into Castiel’s hips and once again attempted to pull Castiel back downward, groaning in frustration when Castiel grinned and resisted his efforts.

Finally, Dean tried a new tactic. Castiel felt Dean’s hands leave his hips and knew what Dean had planned a split second before pleasure shot up his spine. Dean grabbed Castiel’s thick cock, wrapping his fingers around the base and pumping, double the pace that Castiel had kept.

Castiel groaned and began riding Dean’s cock in earnest, his bouncing speeding up to meet their normal rhythm as Dean’s pumps on his cock slowed down just slightly. Castiel leaned down to kiss Dean, but the angle was wrong and so he gave it up, content for now to simply pant and stare wide-eyed at Dean from above.

Dean’s eyes were blown wide as they stared into Castiel’s, his hands beginning to slacken on Castiel’s cock as he gave in to his own pleasure. “Cas, I-…”

“Come for me, Dean,” Castiel commanded, and Dean shattered, moaning Castiel’s name through his pleasure.

Dean’s hand had stopped moving in his bliss, but it was still wrapped tightly around Castiel’s cock, and he thrusted into it. Dean spasmed within him, phantom thrusts nailing his prostate teasingly, and Castiel felt his own pleasure coiling as well.

One more thrust into Dean’s hand and a look at his face and Castiel was flying, Dean’s name on his lips as he fell over the edge. He continued to thrust, riding out his orgasm until the aftershocks had subsided.

Castiel pulled off, waving away the mess with his grace and curling back into Dean’s arms. “Missed you, Cas,” Dean huffed into his hair, and Castiel smiled to himself.

In an hour he would leave to search for Lucifer, but for now they were this.


	21. First Time for Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 12, Part 4

A week later, in February, Castiel almost caught Kelly. He’d seen her from across the street. She’d seen him, too, and she’d run, as fast as she could, in the opposite direction. He’d chased her in his truck, but it had stalled out, and she’d gotten way ahead of him. Then, just when he had almost reached her again, she disappeared completely from his tracking abilities.

He felt completely defeated.

That had been two days ago. He’d been idly looking around where she’d disappeared, avoiding returning to the bunker and telling the brothers that he’d failed again.

He heard the ringer of his phone and realized with dread that Dean was calling. He would have to tell Dean he’d lost track of Lucifer’s love child…

“Cas. Hey, man. So, about that date…”

Castiel wracked his brain for what Dean was talking about, then remembered their discussion of human courtships.

“I’m in New Mexico at the moment -…” he began.

“I’ll come to you,” Dean said. He paused before adding, “If you’ve, um, got some free time.”

Castiel was fairly certain that’s _all_ he had at the moment.

“Okay,” Castiel agreed curiously. “I’ll text you the address. But Dean-…”

“Great,” said Dean. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

A few hours later, Dean showed up at the door to Castiel’s hotel room. He seemed slightly agitated, though Castiel was unsure why.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Dean, are you okay?”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, giving him a swift kiss on the lips and avoiding his question. Castiel didn’t try to deepen the kiss, as he was unsure what direction tonight would be taking. Still, his lips seemed to chase Dean’s, and he resented the moment their lips parted.

“Where are we going?” he asked as he locked the motel room door and followed Dean to the Impala.

“Well, since you don’t eat, I thought we’d go to a movie,” Dean said. “I’m not sure you’ve ever been before.”

“I haven’t,” Castiel said immediately. 

They watched the latest movie about superheroes. Castiel always liked watching these movies based off comic books. There was always at least one reference he didn’t understand, but perhaps two or three other references that Sam or Dean had made in the past that he now understood after he watched these movies. It was interesting to see a movie on a bigger screen than the small television in the bunker. Most of all, he liked learning about what humans thought of the world, especially humans that knew nothing of the supernatural.

A few minutes into the movie, Dean stretched his arm across the back of Castiel’s neck, and Castiel relaxed into him. Castiel noticed two other couples in the movie theatre doing the same thing, and realized that Dean was making an effort to show him public affection. It made him smile. 

Castiel was still worried about whatever was making Dean agitated, but as the evening wore on, he began to relax. Whatever was making Dean nervous wasn’t a life-or-death situation; the two of them had been through enough of those together for Castiel to identify that this time was different. He supposed Dean would tell him when he was ready.

After the movie, Dean drove the Impala out to a wide field. New Mexico was warm despite it being February, and Dean opened the windows in the Impala. He reached back into the back seat, where a cooler of beer was still somewhat cool, and offered one to Cas.

This was not the first time Castiel had sat in a field with Dean and relaxed in the Impala. Dean tended to search out an empty field like this any time he wanted to feel comfortable. “It’s like his happy place,” Sam had told him once. In the past, Castiel had had many conversations in a field like this with Dean and Sam, or just Dean, or, on one memorable occasion, just Sam. The conversations ranged from serious and gut-wrenching to what Dean called “shooting the shit.”

“So what’s going on with you, Cas?” Dean asked finally. They weren’t touching, more existing comfortably side by side. Dean sipped his beer nonchalantly.

“I lost Kelly again,” Castiel said abruptly. Perhaps it was time to confess his failure.

Dean looked surprised, as though this statement had pulled him out of a deep train of thought. “You’ll find her,” he said, recovering. “You can sense, her, right? It’s only a matter of time.”

“No,” Castiel said miserably. “I _did_ find her, Dean! She was across the street in Cincinnati, and she ran from me! And then she ran, and she was here in town, and then she just _disappeared!_ I went to the tattoo factory and sure enough, she got an Enochian warding tattoo, like the one I put on my vessel…”

Dean had moved his hand to cover Castiel’s. “Cas, she’s bound to turn up. She’s carrying Lucifer’s love child. She won’t stay hidden forever. Tomorrow you can come back to the bunker, and we’ll look for omens from there. We’ll help you find her this time.”

Castiel looked at Dean suspiciously. “I thought you’d be angry.”

Dean avoided Castiel’s eyes, but his voice was sincere when he said, “I’m not angry, Cas. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you about losing her the first time.”

“I failed you, Dean,” Castiel said quietly, looking out the window.

“No, you didn’t,” Dean said, still looking away. “Cas… _I_ failed _you.”_

“I – what?” Castiel asked, surprised. He wasn’t sure what Dean was talking about. He swiveled around to look at Dean again.

“Look, Cas, there were these witches, okay? And I was chasing them, and… one of them cast some sort of memory curse on me from this spellbook, the _Black Grimoire_ -…”

“Dean, are you alright?” Castiel said, alarmed. “I’m familiar with that spellbook, and it’s nothing to be trifled with. One hundred years ago-…”

“Yeah, Cas, I’m fine,” Dean said tensely. “Sammy and Rowena sorted me out. I’m back to normal. But-…”

“Are you sure, Dean?” Castiel said, still panicked. “Where is-..”

“It’s in the bunker,” Dean said, and he hurried to tell Castiel the rest. “Look, the point is, while I couldn’t remember who I was, I slept with someone else.”

Castiel felt briefly as though a knife had sliced into his stomach, but cast the feeling aside. He recognized it as the emotion of jealousy. He reflected that if this was what it felt like for an angel, he never wanted to be human again.

“I don’t remember it, though, Cas,” Dean continued with an heir of desperation. “I only know it happened because Sammy and I ran into the girl the day afterward, while we were trying to figure out what I couldn’t remember.”

Castiel closed his eyes, rolled the feeling of jealousy over in his mind a few times, and then realized that Dean was expecting a response. “Why are you telling me this?”

Dean looked irritated, but plowed on. “Because there have been enough secrets! And I wanted you to know that I’m sorry! And I wouldn’t have done it under… normal circumstances.”

“Of course I know that, Dean,” Castiel said. “Although I have offered not to hold you to these expectations. I know you prefer women, physically.” _And people who can do simple things like complete a mission._

This made Dean look furious. “Dammit, Cas! I prefer _you_!”

“Why are you yelling?” Castiel asked. Dean had said he wasn’t angry with him...

“Because I want to be _with_ you!” Dean said. “But it’s so friggin’ complicated sometimes! I mean, normally when you – when you _care about someone_ , you take a girl to dinner and a movie a few times, you fuck a little bit, and eventually you have a conversation about, like, _commitment_ and stuff, especially if you’re both running all over the US most of the time-…”

“I’m neither a girl, nor a human,” Castiel said. And apparently his lack of ability to understand human courtships was yet another thing he failed at. 

“I know that, Cas!” Dean exclaimed.

He’d watched humans for thousands of years. It shouldn’t be this hard… “Perhaps we should have this conversation about commitment that you speak of,” Castiel said.

“Great,” said Dean. He looked uncomfortable, but resigned to the idea.

“We don’t have to,” offered Castiel, because clearly Dean didn’t _actually_ want to have the conversation.

On the contrary, this made Dean seem even more uncomfortable. “No, we…” he looked anguished. “We probably should.”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed. He had lost the thread of the conversation a long time ago.

There was a long pause, and Castiel realized that Dean was waiting for him to continue. He had no idea how to start the conversation that Dean wanted, however.

Finally, just when he was about to open his mouth to give it his best shot, Dean began. “I – I _care about you_ , and I commit to you that I won’t sleep with anyone else.”

Oddly, that made Castiel feel like his chest was inflating like a balloon. It was a light feeling, as though he was floating. 

He chose his words carefully. He understood that Dean had meant “love” but couldn’t yet say it. Castiel had no problem saying it, but he didn’t want to put Dean on uneven footing when he already seemed so uncomfortable. “I care about you, Dean, and I commit to you that I won’t have intercourse or other sexual relations with anyone else. I’m assuming that’s what you meant when you said you wouldn’t sleep with anyone else.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes, Cas. That’s what I meant.”

“Perhaps we should add some conditions to our commitment,” added Castiel, wanting to clarify this conversation which was obviously so important to Dean.

Dean looked surprised, and hurt. “What kinds of conditions?” he said suspiciously, taking a gulp of his beer.

“I only meant that I’m familiar with that memory spell in the _Black Grimoire_ , and you had a narrow miss,” Castiel said hurriedly. “If you can’t remember your own name, much less mine, I don’t want you to feel guilty about sleeping with someone else accidentally.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully and put the beer down, looking more comfortable. “Yeah, okay. If we get hit by a memory spell, that’s an exception.” He relaxed slightly more into the Impala’s bench seats, and Castiel realized that he had let go of a tiny bit of guilt.

“I guess…” Dean mused. “I guess if we get hit by a spell that requires us to have sex with someone else, and the other one isn’t available, that should also probably be an exception.”

Castiel laughed. “Has this ever happened to you?”

Dean smiled, taking Castiel’s comment as the relaxed banter it had been intended. “No, but a friend of Bobby’s got hit by a satyr spell once,” he said, smiling at some unknown memory. “And Sammy and I almost got taken out by a siren one time. So… magical lo – _lust_ spells might also need to be an exception, at least until Sam or Rowena or someone can come and set me straight.

“Or,” Dean added, clearly hit with another idea. “Like, for you, if you had a Naomi situation, where you were being mind-controlled by other angels.”

“True,” mused Castiel, now sipping his beer slowly. “Although, sex isn’t really a concern for most angels. We can turn our libido on and off at will, if we have a vessel. It isn’t something most angels think about.”

“You can turn it off and on at will?” Dean asked, his eyes widening.

Castiel’s eyes narrowed in contrast. “Of course,” he said. “I’m an angel. When I have to go into battle, it would be highly inconvenient to do so with a massive erection. I turn the libido off unless I’m in need of it.”

Dean looked flabbergasted. “Well _that_ explains a lot,” he said finally.

_Of course._ Castiel remembered what it was like during the time he was human. He had constantly desired some sort of contact, either sexually or physically. Although he adored these things with Dean (and the thought of them with any other human or angel was repulsive), Castiel didn’t constantly require them as Dean did.

He lowered his eyes to his lap again. “Dean, there’s one other exception we need to make,” he said, and Dean’s face turned more serious in response. 

“There might be times when I have to go to Heaven – or even Hell - for… long periods of time,” Castiel said slowly.

Dean determinedly eyed the steering wheel. 

“Not that I have anything like that in mind in the future,” Castiel added hurriedly. “But I’m an angel, Dean, and my duty is to Heaven above all, as yours is to Sam.”

Dean appeared to think about this for a second, then asked, “What are you saying?”

“There may come a time – and I don’t anticipate it, but it’s possible – when I have to go to Heaven to perform a duty for a long period of time,” Castiel clarified again.

“I would wait-…”

“ _Years_ , Dean,” Castiel continued. “I would not expect you to live your life waiting for me to come back.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

“So, in the event that I’m gone for more than a month, with no word,” Castiel said, steeling himself resolutely, “you may sleep with other people, free of guilt.”

“A _month?”_ Dean asked, stunned.

Castiel remembered how much he had desired intercourse when he had been human. It had led him to sleep with April, even though he really only wanted Dean. Humans were strong, but they were weak, too. “A month,” Castiel said. “Only because I wouldn’t want you to stake your happiness on me if I’m unable to return.

“And if I’m gone for a month, Dean, there’s a strong possibility that I’m _not_ coming back. I’ve done everything to get to you in the past, even gone through hellfire. If something keeps me away for an entire month with no _word_ – no phone call, not even a text – I’d want you to move on. So this, too, must be an exception.”

Dean looked anywhere but at Castiel. He said quietly, “Yeah, man, I get it. You’re right. I mean, we’ve both got other priorities that come first even though we-… care for each other.”

Dean looked so upset that Castiel cast around wildly for something to comfort him. He struck upon an idea – one which he had abandoned long ago, but perhaps it was time to come back to. His mind made up, he turned his beer bottle over the side of the car out the window, letting the last few drops splash on the ground.

“Dude, I’d have drunk it if you didn’t want it!” Dean exclaimed irritably, his eyes finding Castiel’s again.

“I’m sorry, Dean, but I needed the empty bottle,” Castiel explained. “I want to give you something.” 

He took out his angel blade and in one fluid movement sliced his neck. It was a small, superficial slice, but Dean still yelled, “Cas, what are you-…”

The cut stung, but Castiel ignored it, smiling at Dean warmly. “Angels don’t really have _friends_ , as you humans say, but we did sometimes have brothers in arms that we regarded above others.” He allowed his grace to flow freely into the beer bottle, holding it to his neck.

“Cas, you can’t-…” Dean began, reaching for Castiel, but Castiel cut him off again.

“It’s only a small bit,” he said, placing the cap on the bottle. “In times of heavy war where vessels were used, angels would occasionally give a small amount of their grace to a most trusted comrade to stow away somewhere unseen.” He healed the small cut, still smiling.

“Oh!” said Dean, his eyes widening as he began to grasp the gravity of the gift. “Thanks, Cas! I’ll keep it safe, I’ll-…”

“I know you will,” said Castiel. “Dean, I wanted to give it to you earlier, but you… you wouldn’t have been receptive,” he finished. “And then things got out of hand, with the leviathans and Amara and it sort of… fell by the wayside. But I want you to have it.”

“Thanks, Cas!” Dean said, more quietly this time. He set the bottle of grace in the cupholder and took Castiel’s hand, only to yank it back again and reach for the glove compartment. “I, uh, I have something for you too, actually,” he said. “I made this for you a few months back, but I never had a chance to give it to you, either. It’s a mix tape. It’s Zeppelin – well, it’s all the ones that you’ve started to hum along to, without the ones that make you roll your eyes and stare out the window. Your truck has a tape deck, so…”

Castiel felt the warm fluttering that he recognized as love, and the firm strings of their bond. It was by far the most meaningful gift Dean had ever made for him. “Thank you, Dean!” he said. “I’ll listen to it whenever I’m driving.”

Dean looked away but smiled softly, moving in for a kiss. The touch of his lips was light, and Dean moved quickly down to his neck, sucking on the place that had just been healed. Dean spent extra time here, as though to check that Castiel was completely fine.

“I um…” (Kiss.) “I also thought maybe-…” (Kiss.) “If you’re still interested-…” (Kiss.) “We could try sex with, um, the positions reversed, like you said.” (Kiss.)

Castiel pulled back, looking at Dean in surprise as shock coursed through him. “You… you’d do that?”

Dean looked away again. “I don’t know what I’m doin’, but yeah, you seem to like it.” Dean looked as though it had suddenly occurred to him that Castiel might _not_ be having a good time after all. “I mean, you _seem_ to have a good time, so, yeah, I could try it.”

Castiel laughed, moving to kiss Dean’s neck. “Yes,” he whispered into Dean’s skin. “My vessel _does_ , in fact, have a prostate, and I _do_ enjoy when we have _intercourse_.”

“It’s _sex_ ,” Cas, Dean said, his voice inching slightly lower with each word as Castiel sucked on his collarbone. “For the thousandth time, people just call it _sex.”_

“Okay, Dean,” Castiel said, tugging on the back of Dean’s head as he raked his teeth over his collarbone. “Do you want to have _sex?”_

“Very much so.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The urgency of the situation had dimmed somewhat by the time they reached the hotel, but only slightly. Dean allowed Castiel to lead, unsure and floundering during a sexual experience for the first time in as long as he could remember. Castiel was gentle with him despite his

smoldering eye contact, and it made Dean feel as though he was slowly breaking apart.

Castiel maneuvered Dean backward onto his hotel bed carefully, standing backward for a second to look at Dean spread out below him. Dean could feel Castiel’s eyes washing over his body and began to give an irritated retort, but the look in Castiel’s eyes stopped him short - love, heat, and something else, like an otherworldly predator.

Castiel bent forward over Dean and lovingly placed kisses on his neck and down his chest, pausing in his ministrations to divest Dean of both his long-sleeve shirt and his undershirt. “I want to see you,” he said softly as he kissed down Dean’s stomach. Castiel removed his clothing by magic as often as not, but this time seemed different somehow, more important and precious. 

Dean slowly pulled Castiel’s shirts off him, resenting the brief second it took before their bodies were back in contact. Castiel’s eyes blazed with desire and something else as he unbuckled Dean’s belt carefully. He broke his gaze to suck on Dean’s collarbone before sliding his pants down carefully.

Dean let his own arms go slack, overcome by the sensations and the pounding lust in Castiel’s eyes. At some point Castiel’s pants vanished – one moment they were there and the next they weren’t, leaving an aroused outline sheathed proudly in a pair of blue boxer briefs.

Dean was distracted by the feeling of his own boxers being removed. The friction as they caught on his cock on the way down was heavenly, and he gave a half-hearted groan. Cas’ mouth was on him the next second, and Dean gave an aborted thrust in surprise. “Cas, I thought…” he began, but Castiel smiled, his mouth still full, and gave a low hum of contentment.

Dean had wrapped his legs around Castiel while they were making out, but the angel gently urged his legs up higher. He lightly brushed his palms across Dean’s ass, resituating him, and Dean felt the familiar tingling of grace – an angelic sort of prep. He felt minutely less nervous.

Castiel’s first touch to his hole was noticeable only by the small shock of tingling pleasure that shot through his groin. That was-…

How had he not known it could feel like that?

Cas had already gotten lube from somewhere when Dean was distracted, and Dean felt it – a somewhat wet feeling where he wasn’t used to it, but not altogether bad. When Castiel’s fingers entered him for the first time, he expected pain, but of course there was none. The sensitivity around that area seemed to magnify what Castiel was doing with his mouth. Castiel’s wet heat was meant not as a means to an end, he understood now, but to distract, and this wasn’t so bad. This was actually-…

_What the absolute fuck!_ Castiel hit a spot inside him ( _prostate_ , his mind supplied helpfully) that sent pleasure rocketing everywhere. Dean unintentionally thrust upward. 

Castiel grinned around Dean’s cock, his blue eyes boring into Dean’s. He massaged the spot again, and again, adding another finger that felt better than Dean could’ve expected. It was good, too good, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like this! 

“Cas!” Dean exclaimed, jerking away. “Cas, I want-…”

The angel removed his mouth, and Dean cried out from the loss. Instead, he moved to Dean’s hip, nipping lightly, but still keeping up the assault on Dean’s prostate. Another finger was added without any pain, and Dean felt full, stretched, lit up from the inside out. “Cas, I’m ready, Cas!”

Castiel was breathing hard too, and Dean could see by the crook of his mouth, the wonder in his eyes, that he was enjoying this as much as Dean was. At some point Castiel’s underwear had disappeared, and he looked large, but Dean was much less afraid now. He was eager, even.

When Castiel entered him for the first time, he kept eye contact, and Dean was suddenly more full then ever. He was flying, somehow made complete. He was stretched, but it wasn’t bad, not like he feared.

_Holy shit!_

“Cas, move!” he said, realizing belatedly that the angel was waiting for his go-ahead. Castiel pulled out slightly, then slammed back in again slowly, his brow furrowed in concentration. Something was wrong, something was missing…

Instinctively, Dean and Castiel both adjusted the angle, and that, _that_ was better. Castiel moved one hand between them to grab Dean’s neglected cock, and Dean could feel himself spiraling out of control. His orgasm hit him forcefully and he felt himself clench around Castiel’s cock as he came all over both of their stomachs. Castiel wasn’t far behind, and Dean could feel the angel spasm. His eyes caught Dean’s as he groaned out his climax.

Castiel climbed off Dean gently, trailing kisses down his arms as he left. The loss of Castiel’s cock left Dean feeling barren, and he could feel Castiel’s spend still inside him. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, but a tingling of Castiel’s grace made everything normal again. 

Dean felt at peace, and absolutely fucked out. Castiel, meanwhile, was staring at him with the smallest of self-satisfied smiles.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Five minutes later, Dean laid on his back, sprawled haphazardly over the bed in a pair of boxers, feeling sated and happy. Castiel laid on his back with his legs crossed. He had made more of an effort to recover from the amazing sex they’d just had – his hair was neat and his slacks, socks, and undershirt were on, though he had foregone his trench coat and suit. Though most people saw Castiel as unaffected, the small smile on his face told Dean that the angel was feeling every bit as satisfied and sated as he was.

Castiel drew his nails soothingly down Dean’s arm. It was repetitive and comfortable and Dean was thinking that he might fall asleep when Castiel spoke up. “So, was it as bad as you anticipated?”

Dean chanced a look at Castiel, who was still smiling teasingly. Dean smiled back. “You know it wasn’t, you asshole.”

“Perhaps I should be calling _you_ the asshole,” Castiel teased, and it made Dean grin.

“So,” Castiel said seriously, “You have completed one of my… sexual fantasies.” The way he said “ _sexual fantasies”_ made Dean’s cock stir feebly. “Do you have one of your own you’d like to share?”

Dean laughed. “ _Sexual fantasies?_ Did you get that out of a porn?”

Castiel smiled – not quite a full grin, but closer than Dean usually witnessed. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I wanted to make this good for you, if it ever happened, so I watched “ _Sexual fantasies: The Anal Chapter.”_

Dean burst out laughing, and Castiel smiled sheepishly. “God, fantasies… I dunno, Cas, can’t you just, like, pull them out of my head?”

“I promised you I wouldn’t look at your thoughts unless it was absolutely necessary to save your life,” Castiel said dutifully. 

“And I hope you never do,” he said, “’cause I’m a perverted bastard.”

Castiel gave a genuine smile, then raised an eyebrow, gesturing for Dean to continue.

Dean cast around for something they hadn’t already tried. He’d had Castiel in every position, on every surface in the bunker with the exception of Sam’s bed. This included the table in the situation room, and a blow job in the dungeon. It was _always_ good, better than any sex Dean had had before – certainly better than a one-night stand, and even better than with Lisa. He liked being with a man more than he’d thought he would – there were less reservations, more manhandling, more freedom to ask for what he wanted. Or, perhaps that was just Cas. 

Sex with Cas was definitely the best sex he’d ever had. _Although_ , there was that threesome with the double-mint twins-…

“What about a threesome?” he asked.

He immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry, Cas,” he said. “I didn’t mean it. I-…”

“Yes you did,” said Castiel, but he didn’t seem mad. On the contrary, he seemed thoughtful. His head was tilted, and he seemed to be honestly considering the prospect.

Finally he said, “I would be amenable to that.”

“Cas, forget I asked,” said Dean. “Sex with you is great. There’s no reason to bring another person into it.”

Castiel looked puzzled again for a second, then said, “Dean, you misunderstand me. Per our agreement, sex with someone else, without the other present, would be cheating. When I think of this I find myself feeling a slight amount of jealousy.”

“A _slight_ amount?” Dean asked. Honestly, when he thought of Castiel sleeping with someone else, he found himself feeling incredibly pissed the fuck off.

“But thinking of sex with someone else where both of us partake – perhaps both of us worship your body – seems to be somewhat arousing.”

“Huh,” Dean said, because, honestly, what was a person supposed to say to that?

“Excellent,” said Castiel. “We shall have a threesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for the whole “threesomes” thing at the end of this chapter. This, and the whole “if I’m away with no word for a month” clause, were all an effort to stick with the whole “no subtractions, only additions” thing. It’s really hard to fit the few sexual encounters that Dean had around this relationship with Cas that I’ve created, and I’m not down with the idea that Dean cheated. Mandy in particular was a giant bitch to write around, and I hate her.


	22. Duty Before Happiness, Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 12, Part 5

Over the following week, Castiel moved back into the bunker. Between this and the fact that it was Valentine’s Day, Sam decided to leave for a week to manage case in Montana. Castiel celebrated Valentine’s Day by fucking Dean over the banister next to the chess board. Dean couldn’t remember ever being happier – Lucifer was back in Hell, Sam was (relatively) safe and happy doing “Sam things”, and he and Castiel were screwing each other on every available surface. Dean even found the time to cook (he could tell that Cas was thoroughly unimpressed, though he put on a good show of acting like he loved it).

In between searching for signs of Kelly Kline and having sex, they discussed the threesome idea. Castiel suggested simply buying a hooker, but Dean insisted that it was a point of pride to never need to pay for sex. Dean didn’t feel that he excelled at much, but he _did_ know how to pick up women. A threesome would be almost like a last, most difficult female target.

 _“Last?” Was this what_ commitment _felt like?_

The first time Dean thought they might have a shot was with a waitress named Mandy who came on strongly to Castiel in a diner – in front of his mother and Sam, no less!

“Hey, Mandy. Question for you,” Dean said, hoping that his mother was too involved in planning the details of their hunt later that evening to pay too close attention to what he was saying. “My shy but devastatingly handsome friend here was just wondering, when do you get off?”

“Whenever I can,” she said, smiling at Castiel.

“Hey-o!” Dean said as Mandy walked away.

“Zing!” observed Wally, the hunter who had recruited them to help hunt a demon that evening.

“Point 1 for her,” said Dean. “Just dropped that on the table.”

“Right in front of all of us, too,” added Wally.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Ten minutes later, Sam and Dean waited in the Impala on Castiel. This time, Dean didn’t catch Sam’s “we’re going to have a talk” face until his brother was already in motion. “Dude. Why’re you pushing Cas to keep flirting with that waitress? Tell me you’re not, like, encouraging him to go outside the relationship. Is this because you slept with that girl last week when you couldn’t remember your own name?”

“Dude!” said Dean, annoyed. He considered briefly, then said, “If you must know, we’re attempting to expand our horizons _together.”_

Sam considered this for exactly half a second before responding, “ _Ew_ , dude!”

“Jealous?” Dean said smugly at the exact second Castiel opened the door and folded himself into the back seat.

“Mandy was amenable to my conditions,” Castiel said proudly but calmly.

“Cas, you weren’t supposed to ask her anything yet – wait, _what?”_

Castiel looked at Sam, then seemed to realize that Dean was okay with having this discussion in front of his brother. “Mandy has worked a double shift, but she has the evening off tomorrow. She’s amenable to three-way sexual intercourse so long as we – and I’m fairly certain she meant _I –_ perform cunnilingus first.”

Dean said, “Awesome!”

Sam said, “Oh my _Gawd!”_

”You’re just jealous, Sammy!” Dean said, and turned up “Night Moves” by Bob Seger just to be a dick.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The fact of the matter was that as often as they whined about “milk runs” being anything but, most hunts were comparatively easy. Now that they had taken out Lucifer – _twice_ – and put down at least two Apocalypses, things like ghosts, rugarus, and even demons were small potatoes. 

The problem arose, however, when hunts that were _supposed_ to be easy – a ghost, a rugaru, a demon – _weren’t._ This happened less and less frequently, but it happened the next morning.

Their target, a demon known as Ramiel, was, _apparently_ , a Knight of Hell, like Azazel, the demon that killed Dean’s parents. His yellow eyes belied his incredible power. It was supposed to be a simple demon hunt, but even _Crowley_ had shown up. And now Cas –

Cas was hurt, badly. It had happened so fast that Dean wasn’t even sure _when_ it had happened. Wally was dead, and the four survivors – Dean, Sam, Mary, and Castiel – had regrouped in a barn down the street from the demon’s home. They had only minutes, Dean was sure, before Ramiel followed them there.

“Cas, how bad is it?” Dean asked anxiously. There was a feeling welling up inside him, a hunter’s intuition, that this was something horrible, something _really_ bad, but he ignored it, pushed it down.

Castiel groaned and writhed in pain, loosening his tie and pulling aside his collar to show Dean the damage from his wound. Dean’s insides twisted as he saw the black lines spreading from the wound up Castiel’s chest. It looked like the Croatoan virus. It was poison, surely-…

“Crowley’s right,” Castiel said. “You should go.”

“Cas, come on,” Dean said, because Castiel would be fine. He was an angel, he could fight it, but they had to leave, and of course they wouldn’t leave without him.

“No, you listen to me,” Castiel said, struggling to sit up. “You– Look, thank you. Thank you.” His words seemed choked out of him, and Dean felt something inside him breaking, something he didn’t understand.

“Knowing you, it... it’s been the best part of my life. And the things that - the things we’ve shared together, they have changed me.” Dean could tell it was difficult for his friend to breathe, but he didn’t know how to help. He was helpless, again. Dean looked away, anywhere besides at Castiel, because this wasn’t happening, it _wasn’t._ Castiel was an angel, he couldn’t die from something like this, from a stupid demon.

“You’re my family. I love you,” whispered Castiel.

_This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening._ Dean felt the icy cold hand of fear, but held it back. Ramiel was still coming for them. Castiel wouldn’t – Ramiel would have a cure, surely, and they had Mandy to look forward to-…

 _“_ I love all of you.”

_Cas thinks he’s dying_. He was _really_ scared. It was too much for Dean suddenly, _too much-_

"Just please... please, don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run. Save yourselves. And I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”

“Cas, no,” Dean said, because that was just idiotic. But it did refocus Dean toward his current goal, toward Ramiel. There was nothing he could do about Cas (again, Dean choked down whatever seemed to be clawing its way up his throat) but there _was_ something he could do about Ramiel.

Two minutes later, Dean wielded a set of brass knuckles and a snarl as Crowley came flying through the wall, followed seconds later by Ramiel strolling in determinedly. Sam pulled out a lighter and ignited a ring of holy fire, trapping Ramiel.

“Toasty,” he commented with a smile.

“You stabbed one of our friends,” Dean said, determinedly not looking at Castiel, because he couldn’t, he didn’t want to see.

“Your friend was trespassing.”

“Tell us how to cure him,” snapped Sam.

“There is no cure,” Ramiel said confidently.

Something roared in Dean’s head, and he pushed off the feeling of wanting to throw up. “You have any idea who we are?”

“I don’t care,” said Ramiel, and there was a crazed look in his eye. “I don’t care who you are. I don’t care why you’re here. I don’t care about Heaven or Hell or anything. I don’t even care that Lucifer’s got a bun in the oven.”

Dean automatically glanced at Castiel, who reflected surprise, even through his pain.

“You know about that?” asked Castiel.

“My sister Dagon, she’s taken an interest,” Ramiel replied. “But me? Eh.”

“Let me guess. You don’t care,” snapped Dean.

“All I wanted was to be left alone. But then you come. You... steal from me. And that? Ooh. That I cannot abide.”

Dean didn’t know what Ramiel was talking about. None of them had stolen from him.

And then they fought. Ramiel pulled a lance out from behind himself, magically – the Lance of Michael, someone had said. Dean was forced backward, and he countered, his last bit of strength. He fought mercilessly, allowing his muscle memory to take over, the calmness he had learned when torturing in Hell. This fight, this fight was for Cas. And then Sam stabbed Ramiel with his own lance, and then it was done. It was done, it was over-…

Castiel screamed.

Dean slammed back to Earth. It wasn’t over. Still confused, he was the last one to reach his friend’s side. Somehow he was surprised to see black goo flowing from Castiel’s mouth. 

Dean’s lungs seemed to leave him, and he couldn’t breathe. He remembered his father dying, his mother engulfed in flames. He remembered Castiel burst into a million pieces, Castiel smiling in bed, and he was _helpless_ -…

“Hang in there, alright?” Sam was saying. “What do we do?”

They could take him to a hospital, but that wouldn’t work because he was an angel. But he couldn’t _die,_ not _here-…_

Suddenly there was a light that was so piercing that Dean was forced to look away. It was angel grace, Castiel’s grace, but it wasn’t leaving, it was _renewing_.

_How do I know that?_

When Dean looked up again, Castiel was fine, staring behind Dean at Crowley. Dean swung around to find Crowley holding two broken pieces of Ramiel’s Lance of Michael.

“The Magic’s in the Craftsmanship,” he said.

Wait… did Crowley just _save_ Castiel? 

Dean looked back at the angel, whose look of wonder and exasperation clearly said, “ _It’s a surprise to me too.”_

Dean stood with the oddest urge to _thank_ the demon…

“Oh,” Crowley said. “You’re welcome.” And he disappeared.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean knew how Castiel thought, or, at least, he knew better than he used to. He knew his time with Castiel was limited now that the demons and angels seemed to know about Kelly Kline. _“I don’t even care that Lucifer’s got a bun in the oven,”_ Ramiel had said.

This changed things, and Dean knew it. Instead of tracking Kelly, Castiel could track the demons and angels on her tail, and it was twice as important to do so as it had been just that morning.

“Are we going to swing by to get Mandy?” Castiel asked that evening.

“Nah, man,” Dean said. “Just us. They’ll be other times for a 3-way.”

“Okay, Dean,” Castiel said, and he showed neither disappointment nor surprise.

They had a great night. 

The next morning, Castiel explained that he needed to leave to find Kelly Kline.

“I can go with you,” Dean said, without much hope.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I just don’t think-…”

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean said, trying not to feel dejected. “Your duty, angel contacts that don’t like me, blah blah blah.”

“No,” Castiel said, turning to him in surprise. “Well, yes, but – I turned on angel radio again, and it was just in time, too. They’re having a meeting to discuss the situation at the old Headquarters in Missouri this afternoon. I can make it if I-…”

“Take a plane,” Dean finished glumly. 

“Yes,” said Castiel. 

Dean wanted to go with Castiel, but perhaps not _that_ much. Besides, he’d see Castiel again – he always did.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

March came in like a lion. A few weeks passed, and Dean and Castiel talked either on the phone or by video chat every day or two. 

Castiel still hadn’t found Kelly, and he was having difficulty being granted an audience with angels to gather news. His friendliest angel contact had been Benjamin, who was now dead. He had taken to attempting to gather information from known demon haunts, but there had been no luck there either – all of the demons were either too afraid of their superiors to divulge anything when tortured, or too stupid to know anything worth knowing.

Finally, Castiel learned that Kelly had been spotted with a demon with yellow eyes – presumably Dagon. He was on his way to tell Dean at the bunker when an angel named Kelvin sought him out for a discussion.

“So how are things in Heaven?” Castiel asked Kelvin once they were both seated at a local restaurant.

“Functional,” said Kelvin. “You know, there’s the usual infighting, but… let’s just say that Lucifer having a baby on board has brought us all together. You know, this is an all hands on deck situation, Castiel. Including yours.”

Castiel was surprised. None of the angels he had reached out to had responded to him… But, perhaps this _was_ their way of responding. “Okay, so you’re here for my hands?”

“We want you,” replied Kelvin. “Look, you’ve got more field experience than the next thousand angels combined.”

“I think you overestimate me,” said Castiel, observing the niceties. He also didn’t want to be involved in another battle… he just wanted to fix his mistakes.

“I don't,” said Kelvin. “Look, I know you're working with the Winchesters. Sam and Dean -- their hearts are in the right place, but wouldn't it be better to have us waiting in the proverbial wings? All the power of Heaven behind you?”

_Yes. I’d do nearly anything._

“You ever miss it?” Kelvin asked. “Upstairs? I mean, don't get me wrong. I love Earth. It's quirky. It smells like hay. But it's not home, is it?”

It was beautiful down here. He missed Dean terribly, and the way he smelled, and his home at the bunker. _His_ home _was_ the bunker, and it was finally starting to feel like that.

Then Castiel remembered Heaven, the beautiful gardens, the Heavenly Host’s love... he missed it terribly.

It didn’t matter. All of the angels hated him. 

“I don't believe I'm welcome in Heaven,” Castiel said, fixing Kelvin with a glare.

“No, you're not,” the other angel said. “They still hold a lot of grudges up there. But what if I told you, you could come back? That all your sins could be forgotten? Forgiven?”

“I would say that you're lying,” Castiel snapped. Something like hope rose up in him and he stomped it out quickly.

“Oh, but I'm not,” Kelvin said. “You help us track down Kelly Kline, and you will be welcomed back into the fold.”

“Right,” Castiel said sarcastically. “And you have the power to do that.”

“Oh, no, I can't,” said Kelvin. “I'm just the messenger. But Joshua can.”

“Joshua?” asked Castiel. He remembered the angel from the Apocalypse that had explained that God had abandoned them. Joshua was often called “The Garderner”, but he very rarely got his hands dirty. “I thought he stepped aside.”

“He did,” answered Kelvin. “But like I said, all hands on deck situation. Imagine it, Castiel -- free to come and go as you please, part of your family, your true family, again.”

Castiel was still skeptical. The angels had not been kind before.

“Look,” said Kelvin, relaxing in his seat and taking another drink. “The Gardener's got a plan. All we ask is that you hear us, hear him out. For the greater good.”

 _“I’m an angel, Dean, and my duty is to Heaven above all, as yours is to Sam…”_ His own words seemed to echo in his mind. Dean would understand – he would have to.

Castiel rode with Kelvin to the gate to Heaven. He deliberated for most of the drive about how to tell Dean he was leaving for Heaven. He finally decided to _not_ tell him. After all, Castiel’s plan was to come for a quick visit, see what Joshua wanted, and then return to Earth and to Dean. At most he would be there a few days, maybe a week. There was no reason to worry Dean.

He did need to tell Dean about Kelly Kline and Dagon, though, so he made a quick phone call to Dean before he left. And then, finally, Castiel returned to Heaven.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean thought things were going well. Sure, Cas was running around doing “angel duty” stuff, and Rosemary’s baby was in the wind. But, all things considered, their relationship was going well, there was no threat of an imminent Apocalypse, and quite a few of the people he loved were alive. 

Sam had even begun to show interest in a woman – a hunter they had met awhile back, Eileen Leahy. Dean had caught Sam talking with her long into the night on his tablet, and even learning sign language as Eileen was deaf. He was happy for his brother.

Then one day in March, Cas just… disappeared. He called in early March with a lead about Kelly, informing Dean and Sam that she last been seen with Dagon. During that phone call he sounded… _off._ Shifty, in a way that Dean hadn’t been able to put his finger on at the time. 

After that… nothing. 

Texts went unreplied.

Calls went to voicemail.

Prayers were unanswered.

During the first week, Dean forced himself not to worry. There was a lot going on, anyway. Dean was furious to learn that his mother had been working with the British Men of Letters, but reluctantly agreed to give them a chance after Sam agreed to take on cases for them as well. It was certainly keeping him busy, and Dean begrudgingly admitted to himself that they were doing good work.

During the second week, Dean started to get a little scared. He became restless, taking case after case for the British Men of Letters and killing monsters with renewed vigor. He ran a trace on Castiel’s phone, but it yielded no results. It literally didn’t seem to even _exist_ anymore.

During the third week, Dean’s desperation increased. He said a prayer to all angels, but got absolutely zero response. This only made him angry. He had _literally_ told thousands of angels his location. Surely they still wanted a piece of him? He was _Dean Winchester, The Righteous Man,_ after all. But there was no response, from Castiel or any other angel.

In desperation, Dean removed Castiel’s gift of grace from its hiding place in a box of keepsakes and spoke directly to it, praying for Castiel’s return. Still, there was no answer.

As the one-month anniversary of his last contact with Castiel approached, the angel’s words echoed in Dean’s head: _“In the event that I’m gone for more than a month, with no word, you may sleep with other people, free of guilt. I wouldn’t want you to stake your happiness on me if I’m unable to return. If I’m gone for a month, Dean, there’s a strong possibility that I’m not coming back. I’ve done everything to get to you in the past, even through hellfire. If something keeps me away for an entire month with no word – no phone call, not even a text – I’d want you to move on.”_

Three days prior to the one-month mark, Dean, Sam, and Eileen met up with Mick Davies from the Men of Letters, another Man of Letters named Renny that all of them hated immediately, and Kelly Kline. They had barely managed to snag Kelly from out of Dagon’s grip by pretending to be her maternity doctor on the phone and encouraging her to sneak away from the demon.

But, it was all for naught. Dagon recaptured Kelly, and Eileen accidentally shot and killed Renny in the ensuing chaos. Afterward, Eileen decided to go under the radar and return to Ireland to escape from the British Men of Letters, who were sure to be after her for killing one of their own. 

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The night after their failed attempt to help Kelly Kline, Dean and Sam both got very, very drunk. It began a drinking binge that lasted for three days (at least, on Dean’s behalf).

For the next month, Dean snapped easily, killed frequently, and drank heavily. He knew he was being a bear to live with, but he didn’t care. Near the end of April, he overheard Sam on the phone with their mother: “No, Mom, I think he’s drunk again. Yeah, he’s taking the whole Cas thing really hard. Yeah – no, don’t worry, he’s been like this before. Cas has disappeared before. He’s an angel, he’s not like us. He’ll come back.”

Sam was right, in part. Castiel had disappeared before, and each time he had been in trouble.

At the same time, Sam was wrong. Cas _hadn’t_ disappeared like _this_ before. When Castiel disappeared became Naomi was controlling his mind, they hadn’t been together, not really. They weren’t talking as frequently, and, if Dean was honest with himself, he had been a jerk to the angel. He had felt betrayed and suspicious when Castiel stopped texting and calling occasionally, but at the time he had still been trying to distance himself from his feelings for the angel anyway.

Even when Castiel went MIA when he was possessed by Lucifer, it had been less than a month before Dean had found out what had really happened.

But this time… “ _If I’m gone for a month, Dean, there’s a strong possibility that I’m not coming back.”_

As the two month mark approached, Dean slept with a waitress while he was out on a case with Sam. He didn’t even have to try very hard – this particular waitress was eyeing him with gusto, and even slipped him her number.

“You’re not _actually_ going to sleep with her, are you?” Sam asked him from across the restaurant table as he and the waitress continued to smile and wave at each other.

“No, Sammy,” Dean snapped. “I’m just going to put the tip in and run away screaming.”

“But Cas-…”

“Cas told me, if I ever didn’t hear from him for more than a month, that it was over.”

“And you’re just… _okay_ with that?”

Dean snapped. So far that evening, under the eyes of the flirtatious waitress, he had felt confident – sexy, cocky, _wanted_ , for the first time since he’d last seen Castiel. Sam had to ruin _everything._ “No, Sam, of course I’m not _okay_ with that! But there’s nothing I can _do_ about it, so for tonight I’m going to nail that waitress, and I’m going to put in more than just the tip!”

To his credit, Sam sighed. “OK, Dean,” he said, and then allowed Dean to change the subject.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d been on Earth, but he knew it had been too long. He heard Dean’s prayers. 

_“Cas, where are you, man?”_

_“Cas, I need to get laid.”_

_“Cas, wherever you are, you’d better be in some bad fucking trouble because I’m pissed as hell… I mean, I hope you’re not in trouble, but come the fuck home!”_

Over time, they became more sad, more helpless, and, somehow, more desperate.

_“Cas, it’s been almost a month… do you remember what you told me? About a month?”_

Yes, he remembered. But currently he was surrounded by three angels who were having a raucous discussion about what to do with the Kelly Kline situation.

_“Cas, ’s been more thannn a month. I dunno whattt ta think. ‘Thought you cared, ya winggged monkey!”_

Dean was drunk. The words pierced him like daggers. But, at the moment, he was busy directing one of the angels on the ground in the torture of a high-level demon. He had forgotten how angels never _stopped_ , never took a break. There was no _time_ to sneak back to Earth and beg Dean’s forgiveness.

Finally, two months approached, and there was the worst prayer yet. “ _Cas, I’m gonna sleep with this waitress if you don’t get your feathered ass down here right the fuck now!”_

It was as though a bullet had pierced his heart.

What was he doing for the next few hours? Another seemingly pointless discussion, another round-table meeting about what to do about the nephilim situation. They didn’t need him for this, not really. The last five round-table meetings hadn’t been successful. 

He slowly approached the gateway to Heaven. The other angels would be angry with him. He would never again be allowed in Heaven. But what was him being here really accomplishing? They weren’t coming up with any good ideas…

Joshua rounded a corner in front of him, so suddenly that Castiel backed up in shock. “Joshua!”

“Castiel,” the angel said kindly. “I know you’re returning to Earth to visit your human friends.”

“Let me by,” Castiel insisted roughly.

“Of course,” said Joshua, stepping aside. “You are free to leave as you please.”

The words stopped Castiel short, and he turned around to look at Joshua. “I am?”

“This was never a prison sentence,” said Joshua. “It was an effort to have you back on our team. An effort which I thought you supported.”

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but Joshua stopped him. “Castiel, do you know why I waited on the sidelines for so long?”

The question once again caught Castiel off guard. “No,” he said honestly.

“Castiel, my primary role is as a guardian. I guard the gardens of Heaven. If I die, the power of Heaven will significantly diminish. So, I must never become overly involved in the conflicts of Earth.”

Castiel listened carefully. Joshua rarely spoke, but when he did speak his words were all the more important.

“But that doesn’t mean I didn’t have my causes that I supported, if in secret. I was proud when you rose up against Raphael, though I didn’t like the bloodshed afterward. I was proud when you rose up against Metatron. An angel dominion under Malachi, Bartholomew, or even Metatron himself is not one I would have approved of.”

Castiel was surprised at Joshua’s approval.

“Castiel, I’m asking you to stay just a little longer,” Joshua said. “This nephilim will be born soon unless we do something. If there isn’t a decision at the round-table tomorrow, I myself will step in and sway it. After the nephilim is dealt with, you will be free to live with your human love. _And_ , you will be free to return to Heaven whenever you like.”

Castiel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. A picture of Dean and a blond, buxomy waitress flew past his head, but he pushed it aside. He would stay.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The next day at the round table, Castiel spoke up for the first time in over a week.

“There is a way we haven’t considered,” he said.

The bickering stopped.  
“The Winchesters have a gun called the Colt…”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

The angels had been on board with what they were calling “The Colt Plan.”

They had not been on board with telling Dean and Sam.

Honestly, Castiel had his doubts about involving the brothers as well. They would show more mercy on the child than was warranted. It _had_ to die. Castiel had known nephilims before that had leveled cities. And _this_ nephilim was sired by _Lucifer_. There was simply no other way.

Dean was angry, understandably. He tried to explain where he had gone and why, but Dean was too angry to hear it. “What the _hell_ , Cas! You couldn’t have shot me a text to tell me where you were going? _Two months_ , Cas! You knew what that would mean to me. What the hell’s wrong with you, man?” The sad part was that his anger wasn’t pure anger at betrayal… it was hurt, and resignation, as though he thought he somehow deserved this. His speech wasn’t a defiant monologue about how he didn’t deserve this – more a dare to Castiel to admit that he did.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said. At least that part was true. This whole trip to the bunker was starting to remind him of the year he had spent deceiving the Winchesters. He was determined, though. Dean would understand, in the end. He’d have to. 

“You know what? Whatever. Welcome back.” And he stomped away to his room.

Castiel wondered if that meant they were broken up now. What did broken up couples do?

He had seen a special on TV one time where a couple broke up and returned all of the other’s belongings in a box. When they went to return each other’s belongings, they had ended up making out and getting back together.

Right now, Castiel had a mission. It took Castiel awhile to be sure, but by four hours later he was sure the Colt was nowhere to be found except for possibly in Dean’s or Sam’s room. Steeling himself, Castiel knocked on the door to Dean’s room. “Sorry, Dean,” he said. “Um, I just wanted to return this.” He handed Dean the cassette tape that Dean had given him some time ago.

“It's a gift,” Dean said, barely looking at him. “You keep those.”

Apparently, this wasn’t quite like on TV. Castiel was glad to keep the tape, though. It meant more to him than Dean knew.

“Oh,” Castiel said. He did a quick sweep of Dean’s room with his senses and located the Colt under his pillow. He wouldn’t be able to take it now… he would have to come back later. Dejected, he turned to go.

“Cas, you can't –…” Dean started. He collected himself, then continued. “With everything that's going on, you can't just go dark like that. We didn't know what happened to you. We were worried. That's not okay.”

“Well, I didn't mean to add to your distress,” Castiel said, facing him fully. “I – Dean, I just keep failing. Again and again. When you were taken, I searched for months and I couldn't find you, and Kelly escaped on my watch and I couldn’t find her. And I just wanted… I _needed_ to come back here with a win for you. For myself.”

“You think you’re the only one rolling snake eyes here?” Dean said, finally turning to face Castiel fully. Castiel wanted to climb on Dean’s lap and never look back. How could he have left for Heaven with no word? How could he be betraying the Winchesters _now?_

 _“_ Me and Sam, we had her,” Dean said. “We had Kelly, and we lost her.”

“And if you find her?” Castiel asked. Perhaps, even now, he could include the Winchesters. If they agreed to his plan, they could come with him.

“Sam’s working on it,” said Dean. “Of course, he’s hell-bent on finding something that doesn’t mean killing her or her kid.”

“And if he doesn’t find something?” asked Castiel. “If you run out of time, _could_ either of you kill an innocent?”

“We will find a better way,” said Dean.

_I’ll do this alone, then._ He felt something inside him cry out in pain.

“We?” he asked, gesturing to himself.

“Yes. Dumbass,” said Dean. “ _We._ You, me, and Sam, we’re just better together.” 

Dean stood, walking so close to Castiel that the angel could reach out and kiss him if he wanted to.

He didn’t. 

“Don’t get me wrong, Cas,” Dean said. “I’m hurt. I’m pissed, and I’m hurt, and it’ll be a little bit before I trust you again as a partner. You didn’t even tell me you were leaving, much less where you were going. And I get it, you’re a big-shot angel, and you needed to go to Heaven and… make nice. OK? I get that.”

Dean had started calm, but now he was once again becoming animated. “I _want_ you to have friends in Heaven. Cas, I wouldn’t have held you back, you _know_ that. I would have understood. I’d have – I’d have waited for you!”

Castiel rushed forward and put his arms around Dean. A feeling of _home_ shot through him, along with the electricity of attraction. “Dean, I don’t blame you for the waitress,” he said.

Dean removed himself from Castiel’s arms and glared at him. “Why didn’t you text me?” he asked.

“I – I’m _sorry_ , Dean,” Castiel sighed helplessly. ”I really thought I’d only be there for a day or two. It was like I said, I _needed_ to come back with a win.”

“So you just… you just _lost track of time_?” Dean said incredulously.

“No, Dean,” Castiel protested. “I - …”

“Whatever,” said Dean. “We have more important issues. Now that you're back, let's go, Team Free Will. Let's get it done. We’ll figure us out later.”

“I'd like that,” Castiel said, his heart sinking.

“Great,” Dean said, brushing past him, “And I’d like a beer.”

Castiel stole the Colt and crept out quietly.


	23. Cosmic Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 12, Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for totally in-canon major character temporary death.

Kelly’s eyes were wide and full of fear.

It was now or never.

_“I am doing this for the Winchesters. I stole the Colt to keep them out of this mission and to keep them safe from Dagon, and I will kill this girl so that Sam and Dean don't have to.”_

That was what he had told Kelvin. Then Dean’s face entered his mind. “ _We. You, me, and Sam, we’re just better together. Now that you're back, let's go, Team Free Will. Let's get it done… We will find a better way.”_

He couldn’t do it. He took Kelly and ran.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel and Kelly ended up at the sandbox that was the entrance to Heaven. Dean and Sam were in hot pursuit, Castiel knew. Joshua had forgiven Castiel for not killing her outright, so long as she and the baby stepped into Heaven. It seemed… more humane, somehow, than death by the Colt.

Even more oddly, Kelly seemed on board with it. Earlier, she had convinced Castiel to feel the baby kick, and ever since then she’d been acting differently. Excited, even.

If he was being honest with himself, Castiel had felt something when he had felt the baby kick, as well. Something had tried to connect with him, something not altogether _bad_ … he was beginning to have his doubts about Joshua’s plan.

“This is it?” Kelly asked as they approached the sandbox.

“This is it,” Castiel answered. “Kelly, are you sure?” He couldn’t believe his luck, honestly. If she walked into Heaven, the threat of the nephilim would be ended. Perhaps she had seen reason and realized that the baby could never be born. And yet, something about this felt so incredibly _wrong_ that it made Castiel shiver. It felt like so many years ago when he had first begun to doubt that Heaven had good intentions – a slimy, squirming feeling deep inside him that he had learn to trust.

But he had seen with his own eyes the damage that nephilims could create – whole cities leveled by spoiled, tantrumming children.

The child had to die.

“As long as you're here, I know it's gonna be okay,” Kelly said nervously, squaring her shoulders.

Suddenly, a cloud began to swirl over the sandbox, and Joshua appeared. “Castiel. Kelly. It's good to see you.”

“Hello, Joshua,” Castiel said. The squirming feeling was back, but now it was _shouting._

“I know you must be scared,” Joshua said. “But don't be.”

But then Joshua’s mouth opened, and for a second time was frozen. Joshua looked like a grotesque statue… and then, with no warning, he exploded.

Castiel screamed, “No!” and grabbed Kelly. He felt, before he saw, that Dagon had taken Joshua’s place.

_Everything I have worked for…_

“Ugh,” Dagon said, flinging ash out of her long black hair. Her eyes fixed on Kelly. “Hey, girl.”

Dagon looked between Castiel and Kelly, who was breathing hard. “Wow! You two got so close! If I hadn’t made it here at the last possible second…” 

She grinned. “J. K,” she added, looking at Castiel. “Flipped your pal Kelvin ages ago, then smoked him. I've been here for hours.”

“You stay away from her,” said Castiel, stepping in front of Kelly and drawing his blade. _Again._ He’d failed _again…_

And Dagon was on him. She was beating him, once, twice, three times. “Look at him, your angelic defender,” Dagon said to Kelly. “You really thought he was gonna save you? This sad, fluttering, aimless little moth?” Castiel felt himself being lifted above her head.

Suddenly, he heard an engine revving in the distance, and headlights. It was Sam and Dean!

Dagon dropped Castiel, and suddenly Sam was tossed backward. Castiel struggled to recover, and he saw Dean taking aim with the Colt. Kelly looked on helplessly.

Just as Castiel stood up and readied himself to jump back into the fight, Dagon teleported behind Dean. Castiel heard the _crack_ of Dean’s arm as it broke, and he grunted with pain.

“Yeah, time to take this off the board,” Dagon said, and the next second, the Colt had been turned to melted ash. “Nooo!” Dean screamed.

“Okay, who wants ice cream?” Dagon said, advancing on Kelly again.

Castiel stood in front of Kelly, resolute now. Joshua was gone, and it was only the Winchesters. He would _not_ let Dagon take her.

“Kid, come on,” said Dagon. “It's just getting sad.”

“Run,” Castiel said to Kelly.

But she didn’t. Instead, Kelly took his hand. Her hand felt warm and comforting, but there was something else, something -…”

“Aw!” Dagon chided. “Adorbs!”

Castiel felt the energy coming up his arm, and suddenly, he _felt_ the child. And it was _good_ …

A picture appeared in his head. A teenager, a sandy-haired boy with wide, golden-brown wings. The boy smiled at Castiel, Dean, and Sam. Then he took flight, and he flew through the sky, over a world where there was peace and love – he would make sure of it. He understood right from wrong, good from bad, even now, and he loved all of God’s creations, and he would love them even more once he was born. He would protect them. And Castiel would be his father. He had _chosen_ Castiel to be his father.

Dagon raised her hand to deliver her final blow.

“Cas!” screamed Sam.

“No!” screamed Dean.

Castiel held up his hand, and caught her hand. He felt calm, and peaceful, with his other hand in Kelly’s, and the strength of the child surging through him.

Dagon asked, “How –?”

“Call it a miracle,” he said fiercely, and he burned her to ash.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean and Sam walked toward Castiel with hesitation. “Cas?” Dean whispered, holding his broken arm.

“What was that?” asked Sam, his eyes wide.

“It was, um, it was me,” said Castiel, still in disbelief. “But it was also…” he looked at Kelly, his eyes traveling down to her stomach. 

Sam and Dean simply stared at him. “You’re hurt,” he said, looking at Dean. He held out his hand, healing Dean’s arm. 

“Thank you for coming to fight for us,” Castiel said sincerely.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, still in shock.

“I am,” Castiel said. “I've been so lost. I'm not lost anymore. And I know now that this child must be born with all of his power.”

“You can’t actually mean that,” said Sam.

“Yes. I do,” Castiel said. “I have faith.”

Dean and Sam still looked at him with shock.

“We have to go,” said Castiel, thinking quickly. “Everyone will be searching for this child. We must keep him hidden.” He sighed. “I can’t return to the bunker. It’ll be the first place the angels will look.”

“Hey, Cas, wait a second,” said Sam. “Wait, hold on, just-…”

“You have to just trust me,” said Castiel. “I’m sorry for deceiving you in the past. I was trying to keep you out of this. But I’m not deceiving you now. I’m telling you I have to leave, and I’m telling you I will be back.”

“No, no, no, wait,” said Dean, and he looked as though he were struggling to keep up. “Okay, whatever that thing did to you, we’re not just gonna let you walk away.”

“Yeah,” said Sam. “That’s not gonna happen.”

They thought he was under some sort of spell! But he had to leave. He could barely protect Kelly on his own! The recent deaths of Joshua and Kelvin flashed in front of him. He could _not_ afford to let Sam and Dean die, too.

“Yes. It is,” Castiel said, and he put Sam to sleep.

He dropped like a puppet with cut strings.

“Don’t,” said Dean.

“I love you,” Castiel said, dancing out of his reach. “And I’m sorry.” And he put Dean to sleep too.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Castiel had continued to be radio silent, with two notable exceptions. The first time he called, Dean had angrily let the phone go to voicemail.

“Dean, I’m sorry I deceived you,” he said. “It was my burden, to kill an innocent child. I’ve seen nephilim who didn’t understand what they were doing burn down cities, kill off entire civilizations…. I thought it was the only way.

But Dean, when I saw his mind, I realized that he’s _good_. He’s already so smart, and his soul is good and pure! I can raise him to save the world… please… let me keep him safe, hide him from everyone who is looking for him now. When he’s born I’ll contact you.”

“Dick,” Dean had grumbled under his breath, and tossed his phone aside.

Over the following week, Eileen was killed, seemingly by Hellhounds. Their mother, Mary, had gone MIA, and Mick Davies from the British Men of Letters was also suspiciously not answering calls. Dean was beginning to feel that creepy, hair-raising hunter’s instinct that told him something was horribly _wrong._

These feelings were confirmed when they found a microphone wired under the map table. The Men of Letters must’ve been listening to their private conversations for _weeks!_

Dean had decided that the next time Castiel contacted him, he would stay on the phone long enough to trace the call. Unfortunately, when that time finally came, he was in the middle of a shoot-out with a group of Men of Letters employees in their own bunker, including both Ketch and their mother, who had been brainwashed by the Men of Letters.

The shoot-out ended with Ketch and Mary locking them into the bunker with another Men of Letters employee, Lady Toni Bevell. She was the woman who had kidnapped and tortured Sam a year ago, and also the woman who had been responsible for pioneering and administering the brainwashing techniques used on Mary.

It was several hours later before Toni fell asleep and Dean was able to listen to the message from Cas.

“Dean. I love you, I wanted you to know that. I-…”

“Who are you calling?” Sam asked, coming into the library where Dean was hunched over the table.

“Nobody, obviously,” Dean snapped. “There’s no signal with the bunker shut down. I’m just listening to voicemails.”

“Cas?” asked Sam.

Damn his brother for being so intuitive.

“Yeah,” he admitted, barely resisting the urge to throw his phone across the room. “More of the same. He’s sorry, it was his angelic duty, blah blah blah.”

Sam sat down at the table. “You know, if you prayed to him, he would probably get us out of this mess.”

“Won’t work,” Dean said. “When the bunker is shut down, the warding is turned on full blast. He can’t hear my prayers when I’m in a warded area. We’ve tried.”

Sam seemed to consider this, then finally added, “So much for that plan, then.”

Dean laughed derisively. “He’d probably be too busy with the whole Kelly thing to come let us out of the bunker anyway.”

“Dean, we both know that’s not true,” Sam said, picking up a book of spells they hadn’t yet looked through. “If you prayed, he’d take Kelly and haul ass here as quick as he could.”

“Bullshit,” said Dean. “I prayed to him while he was kissing ass in Heaven, and you see where that got us.”

“But you never prayed _for help_ ,” Sam pointed out. “He still chooses you when push comes to shove. He’s chosen you over them a hundred times over.”

Dean put his head in his hands and sighed. Finally he said, “I prayed before I slept with the waitress, Sammy.”

Shock registered in Sam’s eyes for a quick second before it was replaced by the Patented Sam Winchester Bitchface. Dean knew he was in trouble.

“Dean,” Sam said icily. “Do you remember when you had me possessed by Gadreel? When you insisted Castiel couldn’t stay at the bunker because you thought you were trying to keep me safe?

Before Dean could answer, Sam continued. “Or what about when you ran away from Cas and I because you had the Mark of Cain and you didn’t want to hurt us?”

Dean blanched at the mention of his mistakes. “What about-?”

“Would you have come back home just because Castiel _threatened to sleep with someone else?”_

Shock coursed through Dean. Sam shot Dean a smug look as he picked up a stack of books to take back to the bunker file room where they belonged.

“We’re not _together_ ,” was all Dean could think to say. “He’s made that clear.”

“You’re not _not_ together,” Sam’s voice intoned from the other room.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It was nearly two days later before Dean had another opportunity (while alone) to listen to Castiel’s message. They had managed to escape the bunker via help of Dean’s grenade launcher. It had been amazing to finally use the grenade launcher, but Dean had a torn up knee to show for his troubles.

Sam had successfully managed to infiltrate the British Men of Letters’ headquarters with a group of hunters including Jody Mills. Jody killed the British Men of Letters’ United States leader, Dr. Hess, and the hunters had blown up their facilities. Meanwhile, Dean had successfully managed to break through his mother’s brainwashing. Mary herself had shot Ketch in the ensuing struggle.

Unfortunately, prior to her death, Dr. Hess had revealed some disturbing news: Lucifer was somehow out of the cage!

Now it was twice as important to get ahold of Castiel, but unfortunately Dean didn’t even know where to start. 

“Dean. I love you, I wanted you to know that. I’m safe, and Kelly will have the baby soon. I’ll contact you after. I miss our time together.”

That was all.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean, Sam, and Mary managed to track Castiel and Kelly to a house in North Cove, Washington.

“Dean?” Castiel said, surprised and panicked as Dean, Sam, and Mary filed into the house.

“Cas, is this place warded?” Sam asked urgently.

“Yes, heavily,” Castiel responded. Something was wrong, Dean could tell from Castiel’s eyes.

“Heavy enough to stop Lucifer?” Dean asked gruffly.

Castiel reeled in shock. “Lucifer?!” he exclaimed.

“He could be right behind us,” offered Mary.

“I don’t-…” Castiel started, then attempted to collect himself. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your ass!” exclaimed Dean.

“Look, you and Kelly just taking off was a stupid move,” said Sam emphatically. “But there’s no way we’re letting Lucifer get his hands on that kid! It ain’t happening.”

Castiel was visibly flustered, a rare look for the angel. Something in Dean melted a small bit. “Look, Sam’s right, okay?” Dean said. “We’ll work through our crap. We always do. But right now we are here to get you, get Kelly, and get gone.”

“She can’t be moved,” Castiel insisted. “She’s having a-…”

But Dean could hear the groans of labor from upstairs. 

_Jesus Christ,_ now _, of all times?_

But there was even worse news. The divine energy the nephilim’s birth had created had, according to Castiel, created a rift to another universe. There, in the back yard of the little lake house, stood an undulating orange tear, “a tear in space and time… a doorway to another world.”

“What exactly is on the other side?” asked Sam carefully.

“You don't wanna know,” Castiel said.

“Probably,” said Dean, resigned. “But we need to.”

What was on the other side was a desolate world, a different Earth. It was sandy like the desert, but dark, and the ground nearby was decorated with the occasional corpse.

“This Earth is locked in eternal war between Heaven and Hell. There are armies of angels fighting hoards of demons, and the few humans that remain are caught in between… This is a world where you were never born. It's a world you never saved.”

Castiel had made a friend on the alternate, war-torn Earth – an alternate version of their surrogate father, Bobby, who wielded automatic weaponry with angel-killing bullets and described angel-killing as “my passion.”

The whole situation _couldn’t_ get weirder.

When they returned back through the rift, Castiel looked at Dean gently. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Dean looked at the angel. It was his old friend… his partner _._ And here they were, facing danger side by side, like normal. It was as he had said earlier – they would “work through their crap” later. 

“No, Cas,” Dean said. “Pretty far from all right. I mean, we've got Lucifer on this side, we've got Mad Max World on that side. I mean, yeah, we've been down before, but this? I mean, I don't even know where to start.”

Suddenly, Crowley appeared.

“Oh, come _on_!” Dean exclaimed.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Crowley, apparently, had perverted the spell they had used to put Lucifer back into the cage. He had wanted to keep Lucifer on a chain to threaten his enemies in Hell. 

Obviously, that hadn’t worked. Now, Crowley was desperate to do whatever was necessary to get rid of Lucifer. He also knew the spell to close the rift in space and time. It was one of the few memorable times where his and Dean’s interests were aligned.

“We’ll lure him through the rift, then close it,” said Crowley. “Easy as pie.”

“And let him loose on another world?” Sam snapped. “I don’t think so.”

“Moose, sometimes I wonder how you manage to get your flannel on in the morning,” Crowley snapped. “Obviously _that_ world has a version of Michael that is powerful enough to kill Lucifer. _This_ world _doesn’t._ And _that’s_ only if we don’t manage to kill him with the angel-killing bullets you told me about before he gets that far.”

Sam, Castiel, and Dean looked at each other, all thinking the same thing. 

“It’s the best plan we’ve got,” Sam conceded finally.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Crowley went to keep a look-out outside. Castiel went to tend to Kelly. Dean loaded his gun.

“You ready?” he asked Sam.

“Nope,” replied Sam. “When has that ever stopped us?”

“Yeah,” said Dean. “You know, Cas has faith in this kid.”

“Mm,” agreed Sam.

“I hope he's right,” said Dean. “But me? I have faith in us. You, me, Mom, Cas. And Crowley. Sometimes.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

They stood, just inside the house, waiting.

Sam was on the far side of the house, stationed where Crowley would give the signal when Lucifer got close. Castiel strayed to the doorway where Dean waited on tenderhooks. 

“I did miss you, Dean,” he said.

Dean looked at the angel. His eyes were as blue as ever, and his face was kind, concerned, but also hard, the face of a warrior. _Duty before happiness._

“What are we, Cas?” Dean asked softly.

Castiel smiled gently and slipped his hand inside Dean’s. Dean looked at it in surprise.

“We’re just us,” Castiel said, leaning close. “Dean and Cas. Like you said.”

Dean felt Castiel’s hand in his, and all of a sudden it hit him, like a stampede. Something about the simplicity of Castiel’s statement seemed to turn on a tiny lightbulb somewhere in the cobwebs of Dean’s mind.

This closeness, this intimacy, this _love_ … Castiel had always had it. He had always had these feelings for Dean, and had been waiting for Dean to catch up. Dean, who had never even been willing to say “I love you” – but Castiel had never needed this, because he already knew.

After the beast spell, Castiel had asked Dean, “What are we?” Unwilling to give them a formal label yet, Dean had replied with these words. But Dean realized now that he had been incredibly stupid. Castiel hadn’t asked because he had been unsure of their love or his feelings – he had asked because he wanted to know how to act around Dean, what was going through _Dean’s_ mind. This intimacy, _love,_ had always been there – Dean had just refused to acknowledge it. Castiel had known all along. He had never needed a name for their relationship, or a label, or even a commitment, because his love for Dean was so much _more_ than that.

Suddenly, it was as though all of the pieces of the universe clicked together. His entire life, he realized, had somehow led him up to this moment. “Cas, I-…”

“It’s time,” said Sam, and Castiel’s face turned serious.

It was time to meet Lucifer.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It happened so quickly that, later, Dean would remember it as only a flicker of images that circled repeatedly around his head, like a slide show on repeat. There was Castiel, thrown aside by Lucifer. There was the curious look on Lucifer’s face as he watched Dean disappear through the rift. There was the glory of watching bullet after bullet zing through Lucifer’s body, and the fear that ripped through him when Lucifer was still alive, despite the angel-killing bullets that had torn apart so many lesser angels.

Things got even more confused after that, and Dean remembered pain. Then there was the moment when Crowley sacrificed himself for them, a move Dean had to admit that he hadn’t expected. But Crowley wanted to _win_ against Lucifer, and must have realized this was the only way. Dean was loathe to admit it, but he _might_ actually miss the guy.

And then there was the moment that a blade stabbed through Castiel’s stomach from the other side. It was so sudden that Castiel didn’t get a chance for one last touch, one last look – and then the white was pouring out of his eyes, and he was… he was…

And then there was the moment that Mary, fighting Lucifer, disappeared through the rift, and the rift disappeared forever.


	24. Our Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 13, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for thoughts of suicide. And kind-of-sort-of attempted suicide, but not really, which was TOTALLY IN CANON. This was not even me. This was ALL canon, people!

Dean prayed to God, which he had done less than a handful of times in his entire life, but there was nothing.

In a desperate leap of hope, he tried to force Castiel’s grace down his throat, upending the bottle over the deceased man’s mouth. The grace filtered down Castiel’s throat, but there was no sign of life, no gasping for breath… and now Castiel’s grace was gone, the last bit of Castiel he had left.

Dean hurled the bottle against the wall where it shattered, splintering into pieces, and Dean sobbed.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Dean wrapped up Castiel’s body gently, and burned him – he owed him that much, and so much more. Sam wondered if there was a way to bring Castiel back, but Dean knew now that there wasn’t. There wasn’t, because Dean had finally accepted his feelings for Castiel, and was finally happy, and so naturally, that was when Castiel had to be taken away. Dean had known, really – he has known since his revelation before Lucifer had arrived.

Dean Winchester was not allowed to have nice things. He was not allowed to take a break, he was not allowed to be happy, and, most importantly, he was not allowed to love or be in love. It was why he had resisted so much along the way.

There was also the matter of Jack, Lucifer’s son. He had been born a teenager. Sam said it was because Kelly had told him, in the womb, that the world was a dangerous place and he had to grow up fast. 

Dean could frankly care less, except that Jack being in his late teens made him marginally easier to kill than a newborn baby. Sam wouldn’t have it, however. He felt that Jack had good in him, that his powers could be controlled, and that he could be saved. 

Dean could admit that Jack didn’t show the outright hostility that his father had, but that didn’t stop him from having powers beyond anyone’s control. He couldn’t be killed with an angel blade, much less any of the ways that were “normal” for a human, like a gun or a knife.

Honestly, the real reason Dean hated Jack was because he reminded him so much of a younger Castiel that it was almost uncanny – powerful, but often naïve and occasionally innocently clueless. The fact that his birth had also led to Castiel’s death was an extra slap in the face.

Jack’s birth had led to Castiel’s death, and Mary’s death, because Dean refused to hold out hope that she was alive in the other world with Lucifer. Every time Dean looked at Jack, all he could think about was Castiel, Mary, and everyone they’d lost. Granted, that was all Dean could think about anyway. But Sam insisted on raising Jack to be good, and Dean didn’t want to deprive Sam of Sam’s way of dealing with all of the loss.

The weeks after Castiel’s death blurred together. Dean spent most of his time drunk. It wasn’t a conscious decision – at first he drank more to help him sleep, and eventually he drank more to get through the day. He honestly wasn’t terribly far from being an alcoholic anyway. When he was around, Castiel would frequently cleanse Dean’s body of both the alcohol and the desire for it, something that Dean never realized until a few days afterward. Cas had also done Dean the favor of occasionally rejuvenating his liver, and so Dean saw no reason not to honor Castiel’s memory from the bottom of an endless bottle of whiskey. 

Jack asked questions about it during the first week of their time together. He learned quickly that these types of questions – or, honestly, any mention of Castiel’s name – usually led to Dean making a hasty exit and searching out the nearest form of alcohol. Dean knew that Sam had explained to Jack about his relationship with Castiel when the questions finally ended. 

Dean didn’t really care. He saved a few people, and hunted a few things, simply to prove to himself that he could stay sober enough to do so.

And so it continued.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

Weeks turned into months. Summer turned to fall.

Twice Dean woke up in other women’s beds, and, once, in another man’s bed. He remembered each of these occasions as fleeting half-drunk images that seemed like a good idea until the moment the deed was done. He never bothered to learn their names, or, in fact, stay until morning. He was hardwired not to sleep for more than four hours at a time, which usually allowed him the opportunity to sneak out during the night.

Once Sam had recovered enough from their recent losses to turn his attention to Dean’s frame of mind, he began being suspiciously nice to Dean. He didn’t push healthy food, stopped complaining about Dean’s music, and even suggested that they go to a strip club. Dean saw through him and attempted to convince Sam that he was “fine”.

But, of course, he was beginning to think he would never be “fine” again – not this time. Overall, he vacillated between murderously angry and drunkenly sad. The former was relieved on the occasional unwilling monster, and the later was relieved at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. As he told Sam, “bullets, bacon, and booze.”

With time, he admitted that Jack was different than Lucifer, and stopped watching his back constantly in the boy’s presence. He stopped thinking of Jack as a time bomb and began thinking of him as a sort of odd nephew that had come to stay in his house. He made peace with the fact that Jack was, in a sense, the only thing Castiel had left behind. 

Honestly, this made things even worse. As his anger left him, it left behind the gaping pit that had once been filled by Castiel. 

Occasionally, Dean thought of ending it all. Even Death couldn’t be worse than this. Only Hell was perhaps worse than this (Purgatory might be an improvement), and Hell was the only place he was fairly certain he _wouldn’t_ go.

Ultimately, Dean decided that he would rather die in battle, a warrior’s death. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t stack the deck a little bit. Every once in awhile in hunting, the brothers came across cases that required them to kill themselves just long enough to speak with someone on the other side of the veil, then have someone bring them back before their brain lost too much oxygen. Dean got out the lethal injections he had stolen three years ago when the opportunity had arisen and packed them in his hunting bag, then took a drink. Later, he realized this had been the first time he’d been fully sober since Castiel had died.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

It was November before the opportunity to use the lethal injections arose. When the occasion finally occurred, the last person Dean expected to see was Billie. She was dressed in black, now, with Death’s scythe in her hand.

“No, I saw Cas kill you,” he said determinedly.

“How’s that working out for him?” she said scathingly. “It’s funny to hear a Winchester talk about the finality of dying. This reality – it has rules, Dean. So many rules. And one of them? Kill one incarnation of Death, like you did, the next Reaper to dies takes his place. So…” She took off her black gloves, showing off Death’s white ring. “When Castiel stabbed me in the back, turns out, I got a promotion.”

Billie went on to ask Dean for information about the rift Jack had caused between worlds. He told her everything he knew, in return for help with his current case.

“You’ve changed,” she observed. “When you bargained with me just now, you could’ve asked to go back, to live.”

“Well, I figured with you in charge, there’s no getting back for me,” Dean answered honestly.

“That doesn’t sound like the Dean Winchester I know and love,” she said. “The man who has been dead so many times, but it never seems to stick.” She observed him critically. “Maybe you’re not that guy anymore, the guy who saves the world, the guy who always thinks he’ll win no matter what.”

She moved closer to him. “You _have_ changed,” she said, and Dean felt sure she was reading his mind, or perhaps just his emotions. “And you tell people it’s not a big deal. You tell people you’ll work through it but you know you won’t. You can’t and that scares the hell out of you. Or… am I wrong?” she challenged.

There was no use hiding it from Death herself. “What do you want me to say?” he asked. “Doesn’t matter. _I_ don’t matter.” It was true. Nothing mattered anymore, not really – not even this conversation. He felt numb, to all of it.

“Don’t you?” Billie challenged.

“I couldn’t save Mom. I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid,” Dean answered. “Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.”

“You really believe that?” Billie asked, and Dean nodded.

“You _want_ to die,” she realized, and Dean did.

But Billie was suddenly not so merciful. “Since I got this…new job, I stand witness to a much larger picture,” she told him. “Do you know what I see? You. And your brother. You’re important.”

“Why?” Dean asked. On the one hand, he was relieved. But on the other hand… there was only more pain, more sadness.

“You have work to do,” said Billie. “That’s all you need to know. And trust me, having my eyes opened to the necessity of any humans, especially Winchesters, is not a thrill. So…you wanna die, but I say…keep living.” And she sent him back.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

That night, Dean made the solitary drive back to Kansas deep in thought. Sam was asleep in the passenger seat, which gave Dean a chance to sort out everything that had happened within his own mind.

He felt trapped, if he was honest. Death had seemed like a way out, a way to end the pain. Apparently, even that option had been cut off from him.

Suddenly, the buzzing of the phone cut through his depressing thoughts.

“Yeah?” he said into the phone as Sam woke up and shook off his sleepiness.

“Hello, Dean.”

A fierce ache shot through him to hear Castiel’s voice again. He felt something lift off of him, a burden he hadn’t even known he carried.

“What?” asked Sam, looking at Dean’s face.

“Cas,” Dean croaked out, and his voice sounded throaty, unused. “Cas, I can’t-…” he started.

“I hitched a ride to Salt Lake City,” Castiel said seriously. “I have nothing, and my grace is low. Will you come pick me up?”

Dean swung the car around, even though his veins were thrumming with a strong sense of “too good to be true”. “Cas, don’t fuck with me, man,” he said throatily.

Sam was looking at Dean with wide eyes.

“I am not ‘fucking with you,’” Castiel said exasperatedly, and Dean could almost hear the air quotes. “Where are you?”

“We’re an hour east of Grand Junction, Colorado,” said Dean shakily. 

“There’s an alley a block south of where 80 crosses 89,” said Castiel. “Can you meet me there in 6 hours?”

Dean did the mental calculations in his head. “I can be there at 3AM, I think,” he said. “Maybe earlier. Cas… tell me something only the real Castiel would know.”

“It took you years to be willing to bottom but you found out you liked it.”

His heart soared. It _was_ Cas. “Cas, how did-…”

“Your call has come to an end. Good-bye.”

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

At 2:37 in the morning, Dean pulled into the alley Castiel had indicated. His heart leapt – the angel was there, his trench coat as pristine as the day they had met. 

Dean stumbled out of the car disbelievingly.

“Cas, is that really you?” he asked carefully, still wary.

“No,” Sam said. “You're – you're dead.”

“Yeah, I was. But then I… annoyed an ancient cosmic being so much that he sent me back.”

_Yup, definitely Cas._

“I don't even know what to say,” Sam said.

“I do,” said Dean. “Welcome home, pal.” He gave Castiel a large, heartfelt kiss, right in front of Sam. His lips were chapped and he jerked with surprise, then relaxed into Dean’s embrace.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

“Are we going back to the bunker?” asked Castiel as he climbed into the Impala.

“No, dude,” said Sam. “I’m fried, and my neck already hurts from sleeping shotgun earlier. I need a bed. Preferably one on the other side of the motel from whatever you two have planned.”

“That’s a great idea, Sammy,” Dean said, as Castiel reached forward to heal Sam’s neck with a touch.

They talked quite a bit about Jack on the way to the nearest hotel. Sam and Dean assured Castiel that he was safe, and had spent the last few days making his way through Sam’s collection of movies. All three of them were sure that he had been, in some way, responsible for Castiel’s return from the Empty.

Sam was driving and Dean was sitting shotgun, but Castiel’s right hand was stationed on Dean’s right shoulder. Although it was much more affection than they typically showed in public, they both seemed desperate to prove to themselves that this was real and not a dream or an illusion. Dean was glad that Castiel was feeling the same way he was.

“I’ll come get you at, say, noon tomorrow morning,” said Sam as they walked out of the office of the closest Motel 6 with two separate room keys. “I’m gonna sleep in, maybe hang out with some locals. Have fun and use protection.”

Normally Dean would sass Sam back and point out that there was no way he wouldn’t be awake by noon. Instead he said, “Bitch.”

Sam swung his key around his finger as he headed to his own room on the opposite side of the parking lot. “Jerk,” he called after them.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

****

Dean opened the door the hotel with trepidation. How long had it been since he had had a chance to be with Castiel for a night?

It had been around Valentine’s Day… more than six months ago.

He discarded his belongings on the giant bed and reached for Castiel’s hand, desperate to feel that he was still here, still solid.

“Dean, I’m sorry for everything,” Castiel said, looking at Dean pleadingly.

“It’s forgotten, Cas,” Dean said. “It’s all forgotten.” Castiel crowded into Dean’s space and kissed him, softly, as though asking a question. He pulled Dean closer with one hand, curling the other hand into the hair on the back of Dean’s neck. Dean inhaled, and electricity shot down his spine.

Something stirred in Dean’s stomach that Dean had begun to think was dead. He’d had a few one-night stands over the past few months, but _all_ of them had been missing _this,_ this electric storm of familiar heat.

Dean rode the high, kissing Castiel for all he was worth and wrapping his arms around him to pull them the rest of the way together. Castiel responded enthusiastically, backing the two of them up against the wall next to the door. Dean had grown to love that Castiel could manhandle him like this, that they weren’t afraid to be rough with each other.

Castiel lined himself up with Dean and gave a quick thrust, plundering Dean’s mouth with his tongue.

“Clothes,” Dean said, and suddenly they were off, and his arms were full of Castiel, naked and warm and glorious. 

Castiel wasted no time sneaking a hand between them and tugging on Dean. “Son of a bitch!” Dean groaned, and he could feel the angel’s smirk against his skin.

“Dean, I want-…” Castiel breathed, and Dean fully agreed.

“You top,” Dean said breathlessly, surprising even himself. 

Castiel froze. He backed up a half inch, dropping his hand from Dean’s cock. “Dean, are you – are you sure?”

Yes, Dean knew immediately. He was sure. A need overwhelmed him to feel Castiel inside of him. This had to be _real_ , he had to be _sure._ He wanted the intensity, the intimacy. He could have it either way, he knew that – but he wanted it _this_ way.

Dean surged forward, grabbing Castiel’s hand and yanking him to the bed. He pushed the angel down, and Castiel went willingly, his cock bouncing obscenely against his stomach. He moved sideways, ruffling in his bag for lubricant. He’d never taken it out, though he’d kept meaning to do so, and now he was thankful for that.

He had no sooner squirted some lube on his fingers when Castiel’s strong arms were on his, pulling him up and on top of him. Their cocks aligned without much effort, and both groaned from the feeling of friction. It was so satisfying that Dean almost missed the warm feeling that meant Castiel’s grace was “prepping” him as well.

Dean reached around himself, balancing on one elbow, but Castiel’s hand joined with his, wiping off most of the lube. He almost screamed at the first touch of the sensitive muscle behind him. He jerked forward involuntarily, catching his cock against Castiel’s, and Castiel thrust upward in response.

Castiel inserted a finger, and Dean felt he might come just from that – why had he even bothered sleeping with anyone else, as though they could _ever_ do _this-…_

When Dean felt ready, he didn’t wait for Castiel to take initiative – he simply raised up and sank back down, impaling himself slowly.

Castiel groaned, arching his back, his fingers digging into the sheets. “Dean, gaaaahhh!”

Dean moved around, lifting up before slamming down, until he found the spot that made him see fireworks behind his eyes. It was sweaty, and messy, and _perfect_ , and _intense._ Castiel’s hands dug into his hips, and his eyes bored into Dean’s.

When Castiel grabbed his cock it surprised him, almost causing him to lose it. He cried out, increasing his bouncing to match the fire igniting inside of him. He knew he didn’t have long. He was about to grunt that he was close when Castiel seized up, grunting out his release.

Castiel’s eyes flashed angel blue, and Dean tipped over the edge, spilling on Castiel’s stomach with a scream. Castiel pumped him softly through his release, the two of them spasming together, before collapsing into a heap, exhausted.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

**** _Dean, Sam, and Mary stood over Castiel’s body in a dilapidated barn. Ramiel would come for them soon. Castiel was covered in black lines of poison, and his eyes stared, empty._

_Dean’s heart was torn open, and he was screaming. “Cas! You can’t die now, I didn’t get to tell you that I love you!”_

_The scene changed. Castiel laid on a table, in a lake house in North Cove, Washington. His eyes were blank, unseeing, and Dean closed them. “Cas, I never got to tell you that I love you…”_

_The scene changed again, and this time Castiel stood in front of the rift in space and time caused by Jack’s birth. A sword protruded from his front, and Dean lunged for him, but he knew he was too late to tell him-…_

“Aaaaaaahhhhh!” he yelled, flinging off a pile of sheets.

Dean’s hand hit something warm, and then Castiel scrambled backward, wearing his usual “dressed-down” gear that involved pants, socks, and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“Dean?” Castiel looked frantic. “It’s only a nightmare, Dean-…”

But Dean could still see Castiel’s blank stare, and fear gripped him. 

He should say it. He should’ve said it a long time ago. The words were on his tongue, held back by only his own fear.

_Fuck it._

“Castiel, I love you.”

Castiel’s face turned shocked, then amazed, then finally a wide grin split his face. “I love you too, Dean,” he said, pulling Dean close to him.

Dean went, and they switched positions until they laid side by side, facing each other. Dean’s heart stopped pounding in fear, and he shook off the last vestiges of the horrible nightmare.

Castiel was still smiling.

“What?” Dean asked, and he could feel the disgustingly goofy smile beginning to bloom on his face.

“You finally said it,” Castiel answered.

“Yeah, don’t get all girly on me,” Dean responded.

Castiel paused, and it was obvious that he was trying to decide whether or not to say something.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Dean,” Castiel said slowly, his face pensive. “Do you know how I was able to find my way back to you this time?”  
Dean was confused. “I thought Jack brought you back?”

Castiel’s smile was nearly a grin now, full of pride. “Oh he did, I’m almost certain,” he said. “I went to the Empty, which is where angels go when they die, to sleep forever. And the – the _being_ there – wasn’t used to his charges being awake and self-aware. God has no power in the Empty… only Jack could have done that. 

“But when the Empty allowed me leave, I would never have been able to find my way back here if it weren’t for our bond.”

Dean had heard Castiel mention their bond before, but… he had always thought it was metaphorical. “Our… _what?”_ he asked, confused.

Then a feeling of horror rose up in him, clawing it’s way to the top as something occurred to him. “What, like – like a _cupid_ bond?” He felt panicked, as though everything he had ever known was being ripped away from him. He should’ve known this thing with Castiel wasn’t _real_ , that it was yet another stupid _plot_ of some puffed-up supernatural being-…

Castiel moved backward, horrified. “No! No, Dean, it’s _nothing_ like that! Just let me explain.”

Dean was feeling impatient, but had no other choice. Castiel’s efforts to reassured him shoved at the panic, but his heart still beat quickly and he stared at Castiel accusingly.

“Dean, a very few times in the course of history, an angel has gotten… _close_ with a human. Not intercourse,” Castiel hastened to add, seeing Dean about to speak. “More an… emotional closeness. Trust. But it hasn’t happened in more than a century, and never… never quite like us.”

Dean looked questioningly at him, full of accusations.

“When you were in Hell, a part of your soul latched onto my grace. It was… unexpected, to say the least. It’s what caused the handprint.”

Dean still had more questions than answers. One question, though, was more important than the others. “This bond… what does it _do?_ ” What had he gotten himself into, and how had he not known?

Castiel looked somewhat surprised at the question. “ _Do?_ It doesn’t really _do_ anything. If we… _exercised_ it a little, it might allow you to communicate thoughts or emotions to me, and me alone, through a sort of angel radio. But that never seemed to be something you were interested in. Overall, it’s dormant. It simply creates a tether between us that we can use as a lifeline to each other if needed, which will endure beyond death.”

The panic was leaking out of Dean slowly, leaving a potent cocktail of freaked out and curious. There was something else there, a small flicker of… _acceptance_ that he hadn’t expected _._ Perhaps it wouldn’t be that bad, being bonded to an angel. The bond didn’t seem to have to affected him negatively. 

Just to make sure, he asked the question he most feared. “So this, between us… it’s not… _because_ of this bond? And it won’t… it won’t _change_ … anything?”

Castiel smiled kindly. “Of _course_ not, Dean. The love we have for one another isn’t _because_ of the bond… it _created_ the bond.”

“Oh,” said Dean, and his panic ebbed away further.

“And it doesn’t have to change anything, no,” added Castiel. “Rather, the bond has kept us alive when we otherwise would have passed on. First, during the Apocalypse. Our bond was unexpected. When the other angels felt I was getting too close to you, they forbid me from ever seeing you again. But when they tortured me and found out about the bond, they decided perhaps I could be used to coerce you to do things. So long as they kept me under their control, of course.”

“That didn’t turn out well for them,” said Dean, cracking a smile and pulling Castiel close again.

“No, thankfully,” said Castiel. “But it’s why I was still allowed to see you at all.

“It saved you again when Naomi had control of my mind,” Castiel said. “I could not kill you due to our bond. It was too strong.

“Then again, during the Mark of Cain,” Castiel added before Dean could speak. “Your bond to my grace allowed you to keep your humanity for longer than expected.”

“It didn’t feel like it,” said Dean, remembering the bloodlust caused by the Mark and the First Blade.

“A human without a soul as bright as yours, and without a bond like ours, would’ve fallen to the Mark in a manner of days or weeks, not months,” said Castiel.

“Oh,” Dean said again. He hadn’t realized.

“I believe it allowed me to find my way back to you once I was free of the Leviathans,” Castiel added, still smiling. “And finally, it allowed me to find you again this time, after the Empty.”

Dean thought about this for a moment. “So this bond… it doesn’t make us…”

“Think of it like a piece of twine that goes from my grace to your soul,” Castiel said. “Our love strengthens it, but it is truly nothing more than a connection.”

Well. That wasn’t so bad. That was actually… kind of cool. Then the next question hit, and anger along with it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean said accusingly.

But Castiel was ready for this question. “First, I hid it out of necessity, and shame. It was dangerous for me to grow too close to you.”

“Yeah, but that ship sailed a long time ago,” Dean protested.

“Yes, but by then you had made it clear how much you hated angels, and sometimes even how much you hated _me.”_

“I never hated-…” Dean jumped to his own defense, but Castiel raised an eyebrow. He fell silent. Castiel was right – he _had_ spent a lot of time referring to angels as “dicks with wings.” He still did, sometimes.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said. “But it doesn’t change anything. You could still walk away if you wanted to, and so could I. It doesn’t force us to see each other, and it certainly doesn’t force us to feel the way we both do.

“I tried, so many times, to tell you. But there was always some world-ending Apocalypse that took priority. First it was dangerous to tell you, and then you hated me, and later on it seemed…” He looked at Dean pleadingly and started again. “You don’t like chick flick moments, Dean, and you don’t like angels. We’ve always been ‘just us, Dean and Cas,’ and that was more than I ever could’ve asked for! I didn’t want you to think we were something more than you were comfortable with. This is the first time I even had hope that if I told you, you might still want to see me again.”

“Do I have a choice?” Dean asked. Most of the fight had left him, but he was still resentful that Castiel hadn’t told him about their bond.

Castiel’s face fell, and his eyes became hooded as his features caved in. “Of course,” said Castiel quietly, moving to get up from the bed. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

A picture of Castiel’s prone body, covered by a sheet, flashed through Dean’s mind. “Cas, _wait!”_ Dean said, pulling him back down. 

He sighed. “Cas, I’m not mad. I mean, I’m irritated, but… I understand why you hid it.”

“You do?” Castiel asked hopefully, his ocean eyes drilling into Dean’s.

“Yeah, Cas,” said Dean. “And… I knew, honestly. I knew, all along.” Dean realized this as he said it. He’d always known, deep down. It was why he was okay with it, now.

They fell silent, enjoying each other’s company for a few minutes. Castiel drew Enochian symbols on Dean’s back. Perhaps Dean should learn Enochian. It would make sense, he supposed.

He felt scrubbed raw. So much had happened, in such a short time. But, he also felt content, pure, in a way he hadn’t felt since Purgatory. Only this time, he wasn’t running from monsters.

“There’s one more thing,” Castiel added, and Dean felt his stomach swoop again.

Castiel once again moved backward from him and looked thoughtful. “Dean, I’m telling you this now because I want there to be no more secrets. I understand, now, how important that is to you, that your mind be your own. I’ve wanted to tell you all of this for a long time. I-…”

“I know that, Cas,” Dean said, impatiently. “Just tell me.”

Castiel sighed again. “Dean, when I raised you from Hell, and we formed our bond… it was unsafe for anyone to know about it, _even you._ I wanted to protect you, as well as myself, and it’s easy for an angel to invade a human’s mind. So-…”

Dean knew what Castiel was going to say before he said it.

“I removed the memories of your salvation.”

And Dean had known this too, somehow. 

Slowly, he found words. “I always wondered… why I remembered everything except for how I got out.”

Castiel was giving him a solemn look – pleading, but determined. “Would you like it back?” he asked.

“Yes,” Dean said immediately without thinking.

And Dean remembered.

_His rack was his salvation. He was not like Alastair yet in his enjoyment of it, but he would be. Alastair said he showed promise, and that was a point of pride. He was respected. He had worked his way up to this position, after only 10 years. Only Alastair ranked above him in the torture rooms. There were enough fun tasks on the rack to be getting on with, and he took to them easily._

_But lately, the angels were getting in the way. That’s what Alastair said they were, anyway. The other demons, the ones Alastair cared for less, fought them with a vengeance. It must’ve been five, perhaps ten years now that they had been above him, their lights shining brightly through the hellfire. Alastair cared not, and neither did he, except that they were a nuisance. He wished he could torture them, too. Alastair said he would be allowed to, one day, but they were never caught alive._

_He could sense them, sometimes, when they were close enough. They felt like everything he hated now, and everything he had hated as a human – bureaucracy, disdain for humans and for demons, puffed-up self-righteousness. Alastair hated them too._

_Sometimes they got close enough to him to speak to him. “Come with us, Dean Winchester, and you will be saved. You are the righteous man.” They always said odd things like that. They were disgusting creatures, and he hated them._

_Another time, one of them even had the audacity to grab him and try to drag him upward. “You have been here too long, Dean Winchester. We have work for you.”_

_He fought it off, and Alastair finished it. He liked his current work fine, thank you very much._

_It happened more and more often now. They always tried to speak to him, always acted like self-righteous asses._

_Then, one day, an angel came who was different. He could sense immediately the decency in this angel, the_ kindness _. It was a weakness, surely. This angel would fall easily. He continued his task._

_There was something else different about this angel, though. He was alone. He had not come with a gaggle of bright screaming brethren, breaking through the demon lines and attempting to yank Dean upward by force. He seemed to have somehow gone solely undetected by the other demons._

_It was his wings, Dean saw. They were burned black. Stupid angel must’ve been down here fighting demons for years – none of the other angels boasted wings that tarnished with soot. Dean thought perhaps they rotated out every so often and went to the angel-groomers, but apparently this one wasn’t getting a vacation._

_“I can save you, if you wish,” this one said._

_“I don’t wish,” Dean answered scathingly, and realized too late that this was the first angel he had bothered to speak to._

_“But you do wish to see your brother again,” the angel replied._

_His- his brother –_

_Sam._

_He hadn’t thought about Sam in years now. He had learned to block the thought out. Family was weakness._

_Sam-_

_A flood of memories broke through his mind, overwhelming him. Sam, five years old and giggling at fireworks._

_Mother, kissing his forehead before he went to sleep._

_Sam, sitting with him in the Impala and laughing._

_Dad, patting him on the head after he killed his first monster._

_Cherry pie, and Sam’s laughter._

_Strippers, grinding on his lap._

_Driving the Impala by moonlight, listening to Led Zeppelin._

_Sam giving him a present for Christmas, his hair flopping incessantly._

_On, and on, and on it went, each memory like a punch to the gut._

_“You were taken to Hell due to your love for your brother, not because you belong here,” said the angel, and his voice was kind, but forceful. There was more to this angel than met the eye. He was iron behind kindness, a soldier behind the piercing blue of his angel-fire gaze. “It is time for you to return. Your family would not have wanted this for you.”_

_Memories, one after the other, continued to assault him, and his soul broke open. The angel smiled, and it was kind, genuine. Something about this angel was different._

_Dean felt – Dean felt –_

_Shame. It hit him like a brick wall, made him curl in on himself. Emotions roiled in him, threatening to spill over. The screams of everyone he had tortured shrieked in his head, all at once._

_He had let them down, he had let everyone down._

_Sam-…_

_“I can get you out of here,” the angel said. “But you must take my hand.”_

_And Dean did._

_There was a great white light. It was safety, and kindness, and humanity, and pie, and his mother’s kisses, and Sam’s affection, and his father’s approval, and unconditional love. He wanted more. He craved it, clawed at it, desperate for everything it would give, like a starving man first finding air. He held it tighter, burned with it._

_There was a genuine feeling of surprise, a blossoming of pain, a pair of otherworldly, piercing blue eyes. There was the beating of wings, and Dean was flying up, up, up…_

Dean’s eyes flew open, meeting Castiel’s piercing blue ones. This Castiel was the one he had always known – his best friend, his lover, his _partner_.

But he was so much more than that.

“You – you saved me,” Dean said, stunned.

“I think we established that,” Castiel answered, smiling, and it was hard to connect the man in front of him with the ethereal being from Hell.

Hard – but not impossible. “Cas, I – I don’t know what to say, man,” Dean said in wonder.

Castiel smiled softly. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said.

Dean struggled to comprehend all of the information he’d been given, but Castiel beat him to it. “Dean, I’ll never hide anything from you again. No more secrets.”

“No more secrets,” Dean said. 

Castiel pulled him close again, wrapping his arms around him. “I love you, Dean,” Castiel whispered.

Dean smiled, rolling his eyes affectionately. “I love you, Cas,” he said.

**~Just Us, Dean and Cas~**

“Something’s different,” Sam said from the passenger seat.

Castiel had gone into a phone store with some money to buy a phone, and Sam had accosted Dean in the parking lot before Dean could follow him. “What’s changed?”

Dean rolled his eyes, but he smiled, remembering his revelation in Hell when Castiel had arrived. He remembered the memories assaulting him, remembered being certain he would never be worthy enough to face Sam again.

He still wasn’t, but he supposed he had saved the world a bunch of times, which probably helped.

“I told Cas I love him, okay? Friggin’ nosy,” Dean said with a smile.

Sam’s face split into a wide grin. “That’s great!” he said. “It’s about frigging time! You’ve only been in love for, like, forever.”

Dean looked sideways at his brother. “You’re not gonna ask me if he said it back?” Dean asked suspiciously.

Sam looked at him as though he had grown a second head. “Of course he said it back,” he responded, still grinning.

“Bitch,” Dean said, relaxing backward into the seat.

“Jerk,” said Sam. “So what are you then? Like, ‘officially?’” Sam’s air quotes were oddly reminiscent of Castiel’s.

Dean smiled. “Well, _officially…”_

Nope. He still couldn’t say “ _boyfriend.”_ “ _Love_ ” was one thing, “ _partner”_ had grown on him over the last few months, but “ _boyfriend_ ” sounded too “high school girl.”

“ _In a relationship_ ” was okay. Maybe even “ _husband_ ,” if they ever got that far.

“We’re just us, Dean and Cas.”

Sam shook his head. “You’re both idiots,” he said.

**_FIN._ **

**__**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan was always to end during Tombstone. Somehow this seems a fitting ending, as Dean and Cas have a period of stability after this, despite other things going wrong around them. We also don’t know yet how their story ends, though we’re about to find out!
> 
> Thanks to my amazing artist, TFWDuke, and the creators of the DCBB for bringing us together!


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